Second Chance
by Amaryllidinae
Summary: After a strange meeting with a fortune teller, Felicia Rhys finds herself in Santa Carla… and in the 80s! Unsuspecting yet headstrong, can she survive with a group of vampires on her tail—especially when two of them are determined to turn her? David & OC.
1. Chapter 1

**One**

A STRANGE SERIES OF events leas up to where I found myself now.

First of all, I hadn't planned on going to Capital X 2010. If I hadn't been kidnapped by my friends—Rachel and Sean—none of this ever would have happened.

I had been sitting and minding my own business in my own driveway. My motorcycle was in desperate need of a polish so I had been tending to that and absorbing some sun in the process. Well _frying out in the sun_ was a more accurate description but I'm not one to grasp at straws. Anyways, so there I was, minding my own, when my friends had raced up to the curb, the tires on Sean's sedan smoking, and Rachel had yanked me into the back seat before speeding away.

Secondly, I hadn't actually wanted to participate in Rachel's compulsion to dwell on the supernatural. I don't really believe in fantasy or magic so it seemed like an obviously terrible idea to me to give away five of my hard-earned dollars to a woman pretending to be a witch. It made sense to me but, apparently, not to anyone else.

So, thirdly, that was how I had ended up in the middle of a corn field with nothing more than a cellphone, my drivers license and a lighter.

But I'm getting too far ahead of myself. Let me back up to the start.

My name is Felicia Kristen Rhys. My friends—who I mentioned earlier as being Rachel Duponte and Sean Blake—call me Flic. I'm twenty-one years old, five-foot-seven, skinny and pale. My hair is brown, my eyes are greenie-blue and I have eight piercings—four on my right ear, three on my left and one on the left side of my nose. I play the guitar, sing, love motorcycles, the colour blue and anything that has strawberries in it. Gymnastics is my sport of choice, I swear like a trucker when I get mad and happen to have a mean right hook. My parents names are Joan and Roland and the three of us—along with my cat, Sabbath—live together as a rather dysfunctional family in a big house on the west side of Edmonton, Alberta.

Much better. Now, where was I? Oh, right: Capital X.

So, after I had been kidnapped and towed to the north side of the city, Sean, Rachel and I spent the whole day at the carnival. I even ended up having a good time once I got my frustrations over being kidnapped out of my system. We went on ninety percent of the rides that the fair had to offer, consumed more sugar than I usually take in during the course of a month and watched a few of the indoor shows. I had even tried my hand at bull riding—well, _mechanical_ bull riding, but whatever. It's not like it mattered now anyway. It's not like much of anything that had happened matter now. I mean, how could it?

Please excuse me if I get a little melodramatic. You'll understand why in a bit.

But lets get back to the story.

"So," Sean sighed as he rubbed his stomach. "Are we ready to leave? It's only ten o'clock so we should be able to find a restaurant that's open somewhere around the city."

"How can you possibly be hungry after everything you've eaten today?" Rachel demanded. "You've eaten more food than Flic and I put together; you should be throwing up."

I couldn't argue with Rachel on that point. Sean had eaten at least twice the amount of junk that I had and should have been doubled over with a stomach ache or at least suffering from indigestion.

"I'm a growing boy," Sean smiled before sticking his nose in the air, pretending to be offended. "I have to eat."

Reaching around tiny Rachel, I poked bean-pole Sean in the gut. "All of that is going to go right to your hips, you know."

"I have tricks when it comes to maintaining my girlish figure," he teased.

I rolled my eyes. "Sure you do. But lets just head back to my place; I couldn't eat anymore food if my life depended on it."

"Same here," Rachel grumbled as she rubbed her stomach. "I think I'm going to have to raid your medicine cabinet for some Pepto, Flic."

"Lets hurry back then," Sean muttered, obviously disappointed that we wouldn't be going out.

"Agreed," I laughed as we rounded a corner that would bring us towards the carnival's exit. That was when I saw it.

During the course of the day, thousands of people had been at Capital X. So many, in fact, that you really couldn't see much of anything unless it was something tall—like the sign for a ride or a banner for a booth. Anything that was small enough to get swallowed by the crowd was invisible unless you stumbled upon it. That was why, now, at ten o'clock at night, I could see the little wooden sign that would have been invisible earlier.

"Oh!" Rachel squealed when she saw the tiny hand-painted sign. She grabbed Sean and me by the arm before towing us over for a closer look.

As I said, it was a small sign. Standing no more than three feet tall, it was a folding-panel type affair made from two pieces of wood that had been painted white. Large black cursive letters advertising 'Melany the Witch' were scrawled on both sides above a small red arrow pointing to the left. A little glass lantern with a candle burning inside was chained to the sign, the light it gave off eerie in a way that made my skin crawl.

I knew what Rachel was going to say before the words came out of her mouth.

"We _have_ to go look!" She pleaded, bouncing up and down with excitement. Sean and I shared a knowing glance.

"We don't have to do anything," Sean groaned as he tried to detach Rachel from his arm. Her fingers wouldn't budge.

Here we go again. "Yeah, Rachel, really. She's just another phoney like every other psychic or medium or witch you've ever wasted your money on."

"They're not fake," she pouted. "Besides, we've hardly done anything that I wanted to do today." I hated it when she guilt tripped me into doing things she wanted. It reminded me of Joan, my mother, and I didn't like to think of Rachel like that.

Sean and I looked at each other again, my immediate resignation echoed itself in his face.

"Yay!" Rachel bubbled, knowing that she was going to get her way whether Sean or I like it or not. "Come on!"

I let Rachel tow me along by my elbow away from the exit to the parking lot and towards the most out of the way corner of the carnival. Glass lanterns, exactly like the one chained to the sign, were stationed in a path throughout the park. As the three of us raced along—Rachel was running at an almost frantic pace; she was afraid that Melany would close before we got there (heaven forbid…)—I couldn't help but think how I could have missed something like that. Even though it was hard to see anything close to the ground, you think I would have noticed a bunch of old-timey glass lanterns that were staked into the ground. Sean, Rachel and I had even visited this corner of the carnival at one point during the day. Well, we had really only passed through it on the way to another ride, but that's not important.

It took us a minute to get there but, eventually, we came to a stop at the end of the lantern-lit pathway. A gold and red gypsy caravan, sans horse, greeted us with another larger sign advertising 'Melany the Witch: $5.00 per visit'. To my surprise, seeing the antique mobile home sent a shiver up my spine.

Rachel could hardly contain herself when she saw it. "Ooh, this is going to be so awesome," she trilled as she fished a fiver out of her purse. "Now, I'm going to go first but you guys have to promise that you'll go after me. It'll give us something to talk about on the way home."

I couldn't say no as she assaulted me with her well-practiced 'kicked puppy' face.

"Fine," Sean and I grumbled in unison.

"Wee!" Rachel squealed before she dashed over to the caravan, up the tiny stepladder and ducked inside.

Sean and I went to sit on a nearby bench while we waited. "I can't believe we let her talk us into wasting money like this," he groaned.

"I know what you mean," I sighed before fishing out the two five dollar bills that I had left in my pocket. I took one and crumpled it in my palm before shoving the other one away for safekeeping. "She's going to want you to go next, you know."

Sean rolled his eyes. "Don't tell me." Leaning back, Sean pulled out the contents of his pockets—all of it leftover change from the course of the day—and began to sift through it.

"Well it's a little late for that," I laughed as I watched, counting in my head as he sifted through the coins. Seventy-five cents. A dollar. A dollar twenty-five… I knew at the same time that he did that he didn't have enough. Rachel wasn't going to be pleased.

"Shit," he cursed angrily before jamming the coins back into his pockets. "Rachel's going to kill me."

Saving Sean and I from the Wrath of Rachel wasn't really an acceptable use of my money but I didn't want to go through Rachel throwing a tantrum. She would be upset for the rest of the night if Sean didn't go to have his fortune told. Fishing out my last five dollar bill I held it out to Sean. "Here, take mine."

"But that's the last of your cash," he sighed, upset that he had to resort to borrowing. If there was one thing Sean hated it was borrowing money.

I shrugged, trying not to let him see how unhappy I was to be throwing away my money. This was a waste of time, and now ten whole dollars, in my opinion. "Don't worry about it. I really don't want Rachel to have a hissy fit."

Sean hesitated a second before he, begrudgingly, took my money. He didn't want to listen to Rachel whine just as much as I did. "I'll pay you back tomorrow, I promise," he murmured.

"Don't worry about it," I repeated before I began to play with my five dollar sacrifice.

Rachel burst out of the gypsy caravan a minute later. She looked so happy that she might explode.

"That was amazing!" She beamed, struggling to contain what the with imposter had told her. "You next, Sean!"

Sean disappeared into the little wooden shack on wheels as quickly as his feet would carry him, eager to get the ordeal over with.

"Oh. My. God. Flic, that was _sooo_ amazing. I can hardly wait to tell you what she said to me! It's the best five dollars that I've ever spent," Rachel babbled away, bouncing with excitement again.

I listened to her talk until Sean came out five minutes later.

"Total waste of money," he hissed into my ear as I got up to trade places with him on the bench.

Wonderful. "See you in a few," I muttered, unable to keep a martyred expression from creeping onto my face.

Trudging, heavy-footed, over to the caravan cart, I dragged my feet up the stepladder and ducked through the tiny doorway.

The inside of the caravan was pitch black. If the Melany the Hoax's crystal ball hadn't been sitting, on a table I couldn't see, in the middle of the space, I wouldn't have known where to go. Walking forward, I stopped when I bumped into a small three-legged stool. I sat myself down and waited, alone in the dark, for the Witch to show up. Where she could have been hiding in the tiny space was the only thing that was mysterious to me.

So far, I was unimpressed. The crystal ball, which was glowing a faint purple-pink, was obviously fake. I could tell that it was lit from a light that poked up from underneath the table—which just _happened_ to be covered with a long, heavy piece of red velvet—and through it's ornate silver stand. The space was kept dark, like any other 'fortune teller's' parlour, to try and add to the atmosphere. I just found it annoying.

Two minutes later I was still sitting there in front of the hokey crystal ball, alone.

"This is a waste of my freaking time," I growled. If she's not here in one more minute…

"Usually," an unfamiliar and airy voice sang from behind me, "I don't deal with such interesting people. I mean don't get me wrong, but your friends were pretty cut and dry compared to you."

I jumped, spinning around in my seat to look behind me. I couldn't see anything.

"You, on the other hand," the voice said from the other side of the table now, "are very interesting to See. I'm Melany the Witch, by the way."

Twirling around like a top in the other direction, I looked across the table at a slender woman with long black hair and a heart-shaped face. She was pretty, in an exotic way, and had full, bow-like lips. Through the glow of the crystal on the table I could see that she had one brown eye and one blue eye. "What are you talking about?" I said, my heart beating quickly from the shock she had given me.

"You have a very interesting future ahead of you," she laughed, the sound like a wind chime. "Would you like to hear it?"

"Do I have a choice?" I drawled, placing my precious five dollar bill into Melany's waiting hand.

Melany smiled as she tucked my money away into her pocket. "It's a pleasure doing business with you, Felicia."

I was caught off guard for a split second when she used my name. I hadn't told her anything about me yet. And then I remembered Rachel and Sean had visited with her before me and had, no doubt, mentioned me. "Lets get this over with," I said as I crossed my arms defensively. Skepticism was rolling off of me in tangible waves.

"I can see that you're not a believer," Melany smiled, leaning closer to me. I didn't like the laughter in her eyes like she was privy to information that she wasn't going to share with me.

"Let's just say that I'm the 'I'll believe it when I see it' type," I said blandly.

"I love those types," Melany stage-whispered with a wink. "They're the most interesting."

I arched my eyebrow incredulously. "So you've said."

We stared at each other in silence for a moment. I was fighting not to roll my eyes as Melany gazed intensely into my eyes. She looked like she could see down to my soul and liked what she found there.

Rubbing her hands together, the Witch smiled at me. "Like I said," she whispered, her tone serious and light at the same time, "you have a very interesting future ahead of you. After we finish our conversation here, you're going to start on an amazing adventure that is going to change the very fabric of your soul."

Resisting the urge to laugh, I nodded slowly. "Oh really?" I tried to keep my tone politely uninterested but it didn't quite work. Instead of being offended, Melany laughed at my acidic sarcasm.

"I know you don't believe me now but, please, hear me out."

"Go on," I sighed.

Leaning closer to me, Melany became very serious. "You are going to be alone in a strange place and a strange time. But don't be afraid. You _must_ remember that," she stressed, her voice heavy. "If you back down from anyone—and I mean absolutely _anyone—_it will spell your undoing. From now on you must always stand your ground."

To say I was having difficulty staying seated was an understatement. This woman was insane. Certifiably crazy. But I did have to give it to Melany the Witch, she was one heck of a story teller. Against my will, the hairs on the back of my neck had begun to stand up and goosebumps were popping up on my arms. "Is that all?" I drawled.

"Not quite," she whispered, her voice suddenly grave. "Felicia, eventually you will have to make two choices. One will change how you see yourself as a person and the other will change how you see the world and others. But you won't be alone," she said after a pause, her voice now motherly. "You will meet a group of incredible boys who need you more than you need them. Your friendship and love for them will help you all grow as people. And remember," she continued, silencing me with a finger when I opened my mouth to remind her that I didn't believe a single word that she was saying, "no matter how much you would like to return home, you can't. Your life is starting over once you say goodbye to me."

An eerie silence filled the room as Melany finished. Only when she leaned away from the small table between us did I realize that I had been leaning forward while she was speaking.

"You know I don't believe anything you just said," I confessed, trying to fight of the strange feeling of worry that had crept into my gut.

Melany smiled sadly at me, her eyes glowing brightly in the light of her crystal ball. "I know, and that's what makes this hard for me."

We sat in silence for a moment just looking at each other. Melany's face was a mask of loving concern, mine a mixture of disbelief and mounting confusion. I was suddenly afraid to get up and say goodbye to her.

"What can I say to make you believe me?" she pleaded, clasping her hands under her chin.

I looked at her, analyzing her face. Normally I would have left at this point, five dollars poorer and an even bigger skeptic, so I surprised myself when I spoke. "Tell me something that only I would know," I murmured. I don't know why I said that; I didn't care if she was telling me the truth or not. I was going to leave here in a minute or so and go home with my friends to watch movies and hang out. Nothing that she told me was going to change that.

"Alright," the Witch smiled, her eyes sparkling mischievously. She took a minute to stare into my eyes again though this time, when she did, a fierce shiver ran up and down my spine. "Something that only you would know. Something that you've never told anyone, not even your friends."

"That's right," I whispered. Even though I knew she was most likely going to tell me something vague that could be interpreted a million different ways I found myself dreading what she was going to say.

Melany narrowed her eyes before she sat back in her chair. She continued to look at me for a moment longer and then a large smile exploded on her face. "Your father was a very interesting man. I can see that he loved you very much. _Souhaitez-vous l'esprit si je vous ai appelé 'mon petit lapin' au lieu de Felicia?_" she spouted off in perfect French, her accent mirroring my father's down to the funny way he used to say my name.

I didn't know it but my mouth had fallen open. Melany waited, politely silent, for a few moments for my mind to connect back to my body. It took a lot of effort to find my jaw muscles and then clamp my lips back together, but I managed.

"Now do you believe me?" Melany's posture relaxed as she spoke. She was leaning closer to me again, her face kind as if to tell me that she understood how confused I was.

"Only my parents would know that my dad used to call me his little bunny" I whispered stupidly. "How did you…?"

"That's something you shouldn't concern yourself with, Felicia," the Witch soothed quietly. "You have more important things to worry about."

I could do nothing more than just stare, dumbfounded, across the table.

"Just remember this: no matter how much you change on the outside, you'll always be the same loving, funny woman underneath. And no matter how alone you feel, it's never really that bad. From the moment you start your journey you will always have someone who loves you to turn to."

"How did you know that," I repeated, the question more to myself than Melany. My brain wasn't working properly. The room seemed to spin.

Melany's face fell as she looked at me, surveying my shocked face. She seemed to see something else there besides a brain-dead twenty-one-year-old. "It's time to say goodbye, Felicia," she whispered faintly.

"Goodbye," I repeated dumbly. My lips weren't working properly anymore. And where was the smoke that was filling the room coming from? And why did I smell the ocean?

"Goodbye," Melany the Witch sighed, her voice full of love.

And then I fell over from my seat, unconscious before I hit the floor.


	2. Chapter 2

**Two**

I WOKE UP LYING ON my back in the middle of a cornfield. It was nighttime out; I could see the stars in the sky as the cornstalks swayed around me in the breeze. But, aside from that, I had no idea where I was. The day of the week was another thing that escaped me.

"What the fuck," I groaned, rubbing my neck, which was throbbing painfully, as I sat up. Vertigo kicked me swiftly in head and I had to lie down for a minute before it passed. Eventually I got to my feet, just as confused as I had been a minute ago.

Where the hell was I? Well, aside from the obvious—the obvious being that I was standing in the middle of a cornfield at night—that is. More importantly, how had I gotten here? I didn't remember anything after the last thing Melany, the Witch from Capital X, had told me. That no matter what happened to me, I would always be the same person inside and that I would never truly be alone.

Other than that, everything was a complete blank.

"Rachel? Sean?" I yelled out stupidly. I knew the instant after I said the names of my friends that I was completely alone.

This was most definitely the opposite of 'good'.

What am I going to do?

As I stood there considering what few options I had—either stay here and wait for someone to find me or get moving and try to find help—I took a personal inventory. I seemed fine except for the fact that my neck and shoulders were a little sore, like I had been sleeping funny. There were no cuts on my body that I could see and nothing felt like it was broken. Patting the pockets on my jeans, I found that I still had my drivers license, my vintage zippo lighter and my cell phone.

My cell phone.

If someone else had been with me, they would have seen a light bulb turn on over my head.

I couldn't pull my cell out fast enough. So frantic with excitement was I that I almost dropped it—twice. When I finally held it securely in my hand, I flicked it open to dial 911. That was when I noticed I had no service.

It wasn't that there was limited reception out here in the middle of the cornfield—and, up until this point, I had always had excellent cell reception _everywhere_. Limited reception would have been okay. That meant I would just have to walk a little bit in a different direction until I could reliably connect. But no. There was no reception. Period. Zip, zilch, zero. It was like the cell towers didn't even exist.

Forgetting my two initial options completely, I took to wandering through the field with my phone held up in the air, pointlessly trying to gain a better signal.

After fifteen minutes of aimless meandering I still hadn't gained reception. The only thing I had gained was a tired arm. Shoving my phone back into my pocket I continued to walk in the direction I had been going, pouting.

Luckily for me my pouting found me a road. Roads were good. Roads lead to cities and cities meant people. People meant help and help meant that I was going to be home in no time!

The question was, now, how far out in the middle of nowhere was I?

Back to standing and thinking it was.

My first problem was that I didn't know which way to go. Left or right? A wrong initial decision meant the difference between walking for a few hours or walking for days. I took my time with this one trying to find reasons to pick one way over the other.

There was only more and more fields I if I chose to go to the right. Far off in the distance, to the left, I thought I could _maybe_ see some sort of house-looking thing. Or maybe it was just a rock. I couldn't be sure.

Eventually I broke down and just chose a direction. I had a fifty-fifty chance of not dying alone in the middle of nowhere so I went left. At least if I was walking along the road someone might drive past me and give me a ride to town.

And so I walked, and walked, and walked, and _walked_… After about an hour my arm was getting sore. I had been holding it slightly out to my side, my thumb up in the classic hitch-hiker position, since I started. Luckily for me, just as I was about to lower my thumb I heard a car approaching behind me. Turning to walk backwards, my arm farther out now, I watched as the vehicle neared and finally stopped.

Moving over to the front passenger window, I waited for the man inside to lower the glass. "What can I do for you?" the man inside asked, his voice casual and nondescript.

"Hi," I said cheerfully, trying to make myself seem as non-threatening as possible as I leaned down to look inside the car. The man behind the steering wheel was average looking, tall and had pale-brown hair. He was wearing glasses and clothes that instantly made me think he was living in the past—the eighties to be precise. His car said much of the same. It was a beige boat-like Cadillac sedan. "I'm a little lost," I confessed ruefully. "and I was wondering if you could help me. I'm trying to get to the nearest town, but I don't really know where I am."

"Would you like a ride?" the man asked, leaning across the passenger seat to look up at me better. His eyes were a washed-out green and his face was long and kind. He seemed safe enough to take a chance on. "I'm headed into Santa Carla—it's only about thirty minutes down the road from here."

Lady luck was sure looking down on me today. "That would be fantastic," I sighed, my voice heavy with gratitude and relief.

"The door's open," the man behind the wheel laughed before he sat upright to let me in.

I pulled open the door and slid gracefully into the car. "My name's Felicia," I said as I held out my hand to the kind stranger.

"I'm Max," he replied in kind, shaking my hand. I quickly did up my seat belt as he started driving again. "So," he said quietly a few minutes down the road, "what were you doing all the way out here by yourself?"

"I don't really know," I admitted with a nervous laugh. Maybe this wasn't something that I should be telling a stranger. "Like I said, I'm a bit lost. Where is the town you're taking me to? As in on a map," I clarified when Max shot me a worried look, like I was in need of visiting a hospital.

"It's on the Californian coast," he explained, obviously convinced I was either crazy or suffering a concussion.

California! How had I ended up in California? That was a three day drive from Edmonton and obviously not a distance I could have walked. What the heck is going on?

"Are you alright?" Max asked, concerned. "You look like you're going to cry. Are you hurt?"

"No, just confused," I said slowly, turning my head to look out the window as I spoke. We were about fifteen minutes away from where Max had picked me up and the scenery was vastly different. We were currently winding downhill, the landscape more open and dotted with trees. I could see the ocean glittering black and ominous in the distance. I had to clench my hands together to stop myself from rubbing my forehead. The last thing I wanted was for Max to think I was in pain.

This is just too bizarre.

_You are going to be alone in a strange place and a strange time. But don't be afraid. You _must_ remember that._

Melany's voice drifted through my head as I watched the ocean come closer and closer. My stomach sank when I realized what might be going on.

"What day is it?" I blurted out without thinking.

"It's the 15th of June, 1985. Are you sure you're okay?"

"Yeah, yeah, I'm fine," I dismissed, taking in Max's wardrobe once more out of the corner of my eye.

The haircut, the big glasses, the clothes, the car, no cell phone reception… Oh God. It all made sense now. But how was it _possible_?

"This is unbelievable," I whispered, not really seeing anything anymore.

I though I heard Max whisper something like 'You've got that right' but I couldn't be sure. My ears has begun to ring. A tense silence fell swiftly between Max and I but I didn't care. I was trying to sort out all of the impossibilities in my head.

Time travel wasn't possible. That was a fact. It was indisputable. Just like ice is cold and fire is hot, time travel is impossible. There had to be some sort of other explanation for this. Like this was all some sort of elaborate joke that Sean and Rachel were playing on me. They must have found some way to knock me out, drag me to the ocean and then pay off some poor guy to come pick me up. That had to be it. It had to be.

But it wasn't. I desperately wanted it to be true and would have given my left arm to _make_ it true but I knew, somewhere inside of me, that it wasn't. It just wasn't feasible.

"Where would you me to drop you off?" Max asked as we passed by a splashy greeting board reinforced my conclusions.

'Santa Carla' was sprawled across the large billboard, surrounded by a pictorial version of the town it represented. It was a happy picture, showing the beach, the sun and a few places that must have qualified as places of interest. It told me that we were a mile away from the city limits.

"Um, just anywhere that's convenient for you," I murmured as we flew past the sign. I don't know why, but I turned my head to watch the greetingboard disappear in the distance. Splashed across the bottom in black and orange block letters—amongst a host of other graffiti—were the words 'Murder capital of the world'. "Is that true?" I asked without thinking.

"Is what true?"

"That Santa Carla is the murder capital of the world?"

"Ah, that," Maxed laughed as he shook his head. "No, that's just kids with nothing better to do then destroy public property. Santa Carla is a very safe place to live."

"Oh," I said quietly, twisting in my seat to look back at the shrinking sign. Buildings had started to spring up around the sides of the roads, sparsely at first and then amassing into a town. Eventually Max stopped outside of a video store and shut off the car.

"Well this is I where I leave you," Max laughed as he pulled the keys from the ignition and undid his seat belt. "This is my business." He gestured upwards to a large red neon sign that read 'VideoMax'. "I rent videos and sell souveniers," he answered when I glanced around him and through the window.

I undid my strap as well and quickly got out of the car, locking the door behind me. "Thanks," I smiled when Max emerged from the vehicle. "I guess I'll see you around?"

"I guess you will," he laughed. "Feel free to drop by the store if you want to chat. I know how it is to be new in a strange place and it always helps to have a friend. I start work every night at eight."

He seemed sincere in his invitation. "I might just take you up on that,"I laughed sounding a little more nervous than I intended. Waving goodbye, I left Max outside the video rental store and walked away down the street.

It was a hot night out and very humid. Joan and Roland liked to take trips to the Caribbean and Hawaii so I was used to the sticky feeling on my skin. Because I had been preparing for a day of sitting out I the sun to clean my motorcycle, I was dressed for the weather. Tight pale-washed blue jeans, a tight white tee and my favourite pair of red Chuck Taylor's made up my ensemble. I had almost put on a band shirt this morning and now I was happy I hadn't.

Aside from the obviously 'flat' nature of my hair—no back-combing, perming or teasing for me—I fit right in strolling along down the street. The only thing that people really notice about me was that I had more than two piercings. But as I walked I got to thinking which was something I really wanted to avoid.

Of all the things I could do, I wasn't an experienced outdoors-woman. Joan hated anything that was even remotely dirty so she had forbidden me from camping trips of any kind. Now that I was alone here with no money and no one to turn to—besides a video rental store owner who thought I was crazy—I was facing the prospect of being homeless. My luck had finally run out, it seemed.

"This is just great," I complained under my breath as I kicked an empty pop can out of my path. It rattled noisily off of the sidewalk and collided with something wooden. Looking up from the ground, I examined the signpost that the can had hit. 'Santa Carla boardwalk ½ mile,' it read in large plain block letters. I don't know how I had missed it before but, now that I was looking for it, I saw the bright lights of the boardwalk amusement park in the distance.

Why not? It wasn't like I had anything better to do with my time…

Like I said, I wasn't sure how I could have missed something so bright, large and noisy intentionally. Admittedly, I was a bit distracted, but I should have been able to see the lights of the rides from outside of the town. Annoyed with myself, I walked the five-hundred or so meters to the boardwalk entrance praying that I wouldn't have to pay an admission fee to get in.

It was like I was back at the X.

Hundreds of people were milling around on the beachfront and on the sand. I could see bonfires blazing in the distance, shadowy figures dancing in the flickering light to music that I couldn't hear. Screams, laughter and the buzz of a thousand different conversations hummed just under the roar of the rides and the carnival-themed music that blared over the loudspeakers. Kids were running around without their parents, teenagers were enjoying themselves with large groups of their friends and there was even a concert going on somewhere.

Trepidatiously, I stepped from the safety of the parking lot asphalt and onto the walk. It was like being swept away in a river current. There were so many people around me that it was hard to stop and look at all of the attractions around me. I had spent five minutes just trying to make it to the opposite side of the boardwalk to look at a little booth that was selling leather jackets.

At first, from a distance, I was sure they were cheap knock-offs. You know, the kind made of vinyl or plastic made to look like animal hide. When I finally got close enough to look at the coats and touch them I was astonished to find that they were real. Better yet, they cost under forty dollars.

"You, um… interested?" the woman selling the real leather jackets asked timidly. She was eyeing me when I turned to look at her; her eyes were trained on my hair—as if I was the fashion victim and not her. She was sporting a large, permed, bleach-blonde hairdo and jeans that were so high-waisted they looked like they were choking her.

I gave a longing look at the simple ladies jacket that I had found, tucked away between two much larger men's jackets. It was tasteful and looked like it would fit me perfectly. "Yeah," I laughed, tucking the jacket back out of sight. "But I can't afford it."

The woman smiled kindly, sensing that she was getting close to a sale. "I could sell it to you for half price," she offered quietly. "Fifteen dollars."

"No," I clarified, embarrassed, "I mean I don't have any money."

"None?" she laughed.

I shook my head, smiling to try and hide the blush rising to my cheeks. "Nope, none at all." I turned my pockets inside out for effect, completely forgetting that my phone and lighter were stoed away there. They both fell loudly on the ground, the back popping off of my phone just before it was trampled under the feet of a wave of teenagers. Luckily—ha—my lighter didn't meet the same fate, "Shit," I hissed, leaning down once the coast was clear to scoop up my lighter and the pieces of my cell. The mangled mass of wires, microchips and plastic that used to be my phone was so far beyond repair that I tossed it directly into a nearby garbage can.

The vendor woman watched me sadly, clearly feeling sorry for me. "Stupid kids," she growled, scowling for effect. "That bites that your toy got broken. Where'd you get it anyway? It looked pretty cool."

Toy. Ha. "Yeah," I sighed sadly. Now not only was I without money I didn't have a clock. "It was a gift from a friend of mine," I lied.

"Is it your birthday or something?"

"Yeah," I fibbed again, not really thinking about what I was saying. God, this day couldn't get much worse. I must have looked more distraught than I felt because the woman's face fell when I turned back to her. "Anyways, it was nice chatting with you. Maybe, once I have some cash, I'll come back and get that jacket from you."

"Well," she said slowly, lowering her voice to a whisper and pulling me closer by the forearm. She looked around her like she was checking to make sure no one was watching before she leaned close to me, whispering in my ear. "I could _give_ that jacket to you."

"Oh no," I automatically denied, backing slightly away from her. I wasn't looking for handouts, especially of leather jackets that I really didn't need. "It's too expensive to just give away. Thanks, though."

"I feel really bad for you," the woman continued, ignoring my refusal. "You look kinda outta place and your gift got broken because of me. I'd like to pay you back for that."

"Really, it's not necessary," I rushed, trying to back away. The vendor woman wouldn't let me leave.

Pulling me back to her, she whispered quickly in my ear. I could practically hear the smile on her face through her voice. "Plus, if people see you wearing one of my jackets it'll bring me more business. Please," she insisted, letting go of my arm to pull the jacket in question off the rack and stuff it in my arms, "take it."

"I-I," I stuttered, trying to come up with some amazing reason why she shouldn't just _give_ me the coat. Words failed me when the woman leaned back to smile at me. She looked so happy that she might explode. It reminded me of Rachel. That was all it took for me to give in completely. "Thanks," I whispered. "This is really nice of you."

I didn't think it was possible, but the smile on the vendor woman's face doubled in size. "Don't worry about it!" She exclaimed, motioning for me to turn around. As I did, she took the coat off of the rack and slid it over my arms.

"It looks great," she enthused. I took a second to peek at my reflection in the mirror behind her. She was right, it fit me like a glove. "Definitely. Enjoy it."

"Thanks," I said again with as much sincerity as I could muster.

"For sure! See you 'round," she laughed before disappearing behind the racks.

I felt a twinge of guilt as I stepped back into the tied of people on the boardwalk and let myself get swept away again. It was really my fault that my stupid phone had gotten broken, not the woman's. She hadn't asked me to be overly dramatic, to turn my pockets inside out to demonstrate how empty they were. If I hadn't stopped to look at the coats in the first place, none of this would have happened.

If I had never let Sean and Rachel drag me to Capital X, none of this would have happened.

My stomach twisted painfully as soon as that thought flashed across my mind. It wasn't Sean or Rachel's fault that any of this—unbelievable as it was—had ever happened. They had even less control over my current bizarre situation than I did. It wasn't right for me to blame them for my problems.

Feeling more guilty than I had the moment previous, I broke blindly away from the torrent of people pouring down the walk and rounded a corner. There were fewer people here—and I use the term 'fewer' lightly, it was still hard to walk around without bumping into someone—and, when I looked up, I saw why. A carousel large enough to accommodate at least fifty people at a time was situated about twenty meters away from me. All of the people that had gone back this way were either on the ride or waiting in line to get on—this explained the 'lack' of crowd.

Shuffling off to the side, out of the way of paying customers, I watched as the ride turned

And then I saw him, swinging lightly between the painted horses and smirking to himself. He was glancing around, casually, though I immediately got the impression that he was searching for someone or something.

The boy—though I didn't really feel comfortable thinking of him that way, he was clearly my age—was tall, built well and had platinum blonde hair—which, surprisingly, looked totally awesome styled in a short, spiked mullet. (It's an oxymoron I know, but, in this case, I'm making the exception for 'mullet' and 'awesome' to exist simultaneously in the same sentence.) A light scruff covered his strong jaw, making him look more imposing than the three bare-faced boys that flanked him.

Each of the other boys was the definition of rebellion. Two had untamed, long hair while the third sported an impressively long and curly mullet of his own. Their flashy clothes screamed eighties punk and compelling in the same breath.

But none of the other boys could hold my attention. As hard as I tried to look away, I kept letting my eyes drift back to the face of the gorgeous bleach-blonde boy. He was obviously the leader of the group; the other boys followed him like shadows, taking cues from even his slightest movement.

Luckily enough for me—the last thing I wanted was to be caught staring—the boy and his friends disappeared around the back of the carousel as it turned. A second or so later, when they twisted back into my sight, the boys were passing by a man and a woman who were seated on one of the carousel benches. The blonde boy, the one who caught my eye, smiled at the girl—who was obviously dating the beefy surfer next to her—when she shot him an appreciative glance. Her boyfriend, the beefy surfer, didn't like that much, so he stuck out his foot to vengefully trip one of the other younger boys. Insulted, the second boy rounded on the seated man, the blonde leader coming to his friend's defense. Four other surfers, clearly friends of the beefcake, jumped forward causing the younger boys to close ranks. Pushing and shoving ensued, a major explosion looming on the horizon.

The ride suddenly shut down and a large security guard jumped in to break up the building fight. Everyone around me had fallen silent. I watched, anxiously, as the security guard broke up the opposing groups by placing his nightstick under the blue-eyed boy's Adam's apple. They exchanged words that I couldn't hear before the blonde and his three friends quickly got off the carousel. I didn't see which direction the instigators went because I was too focused on watching the security guard as he rounded his attention on the surfers. They were forced to get off the ride as well.

Relief washed through me. I didn't realize it until things had returned to normal that I had been afraid for the surfer, his girlfriend and their other friends. The boys who had caused the fight—especially the bleach-blonde—had looked mad enough to hurt someone. Feeling the need to flee the scene of the scuffle, I turned to leave.

I have a very bad habit of looking at the ground when I walk. Most people don't know it but I can be very clumsy. They assume that, because I dabble in gymnastics, I'm graceful all the time. Truth is, the second I step off of the mats or the balance beam I become prone to tripping and falling. A lot. Especially over my own feet. Because of this I try to look out for things that might cause me to fall over, only looking up every now and then to make sure I don't walk into things. Needless to say, my shoes and I had gotten to know each other quite intimately over the years.

So it was because of this, my bad habit, that I didn't notice where I was headed until I flicked my eyes up from the pavement. Like a cruise missile racing towards it's target my eyes instantly found those of the bleach-blonde from the carousel. Embarrassment flamed hotly in my chest when I realised that he was heading towards me, watching me watch him.

I felt instantly compelled to look away. My body was screaming at me to turn and run in the other direction like if the boys were something to be feared and avoided at all costs. But, as if his eyes were magnets, my gaze returned to the gorgeous boy's face no matter how many times I glanced away. I couldn't make myself respond properly.

_DANGER! DANGER! DANGER!_ My body reeled as it prickled with fear. The distance between boy and I was closing swiftly and I was suddenly at a loss of what to do. I wanted to stop walking but the crowd had gained control of me; I couldn't stop moving forward_._

_If you back down from anyone—and I mean absolutely _anyone_—it will spell your undoing. _ _From now on you must always stand your ground_, Melany's voice echoed in my head, a warning.

I didn't need to be reminded twice.

Even though every fibre of my being screamed for me to look away, I maintained eye contact with the blonde boy. I even found the courage somewhere within myself to give him the tiniest of defiant scowls as he passed.

I didn't check to see if he was still watching me after that. I was too busy trying not to fall over as I ran away.


	3. Chapter 3

_**Author's Notes**:_

_A fond hello to everyone!_

_I've run into a bit of a roadblock with the site's Document Manager—it won't let me upload any files, period—but that should be fixed soon. When it is, the next chapter (chapter four and possibly five) will be available for you to read._

__

Sincerely,

Amaryllidinae

* * *

**Three**

MY FIRST NIGHT SPENT homeless went better than I had anticipated. After fleeing the boardwalk—and other things I was trying very hard not to think about—I busied myself with trying to find a place to settle in for the night.

I didn't realize how exhausted I was until I laid my head down.

After searching for a few hours, I stumbled on an abandoned warehouse on the outskirts of Santa Carla. All of the doors and windows were boarded over so I assumed no one would mind if I used it for a night. I had slipped inside through a sliding door that was left ajar at the back of the complex and made camp in a room that used to be an office. The place was dusty and smelled badly of rotting wood but I wasn't about to complain. This place was the Taj Mahal compared to being out on the street next to a dumpster.

And so, with that hanging over my head, I had nestled into the cleanest corner I could find and closed my eyes. I fell asleep instantly.

My sleep was deep though my mind was restless while it dreamed. The face of the blond boy from the boardwalk kept appearing in my thoughts, his eyes cold and beautiful. Even in my dreams his gazed seemed to cut through to my soul like the blade of a knife. I couldn't remember anything that had happened in my dreams, except for that the blonde boy had been in _all_ of them.

I woke up shivering violently the next day. The warehouse was cold and I was suddenly even more grateful that the woman from the boardwalk had pitied me enough to give me a coat. I would have surely succumbed to hypothermia while I slept if I hadn't been wearing it.

My body was stiff as I got up, my limbs screaming in protest as I stretched. Spending all night on the cold concrete had given me a sore back so I took a few minutes to massage my snarling muscles. Clearly I would have to get used to this; it wasn't like I was in a position to better myself.

I had done some thinking the night before, trying to come up with a solution to my current situation that didn't leave me on the street. But, no matter what plan I came up with, I always came back to one depressing realisation: I was an illegal immigrant with no way to prove who I was. My driver's license was useless—it wasn't like I could go flashing it around with the year 2010 stamped all over it. People would automatically assume it was a fake or that I was crazy or both. And even if they did believe it was real—which was a tremendous stretch because even _I_ had trouble believing what was going on—I didn't have my passport with me. The last thing I wanted to happen was to get arrested for border jumping. So, instead of carrying it around and worrying about losing it, I had begrudgingly snapped my license in half and tossed it in the trash.

I took my time exiting the warehouse, lingering inside for a few hours. Even though it was clearly abandoned, it was probably still belonged to someone. I hadn't taken the time before I entered to check for any signs indicating that it was private property and I didn't want to get caught trespassing. Peeking out through a crack between two boards, I checked to see if anyone was milling about outside. The coast looked clear enough so I quickly slipped out the way I came and bolted down the street.

It was late in the afternoon, the sun hanging low and fierce over the horizon. The heat was intense, so I stripped off my jacket and tied it around my waist. Winding slowly through the streets, I finally made my way back to the center of Santa Carla. People were still on the beachfront but you could tell that the day was coming to a close. Families were packing up to leave instead of staking out camps on the sand and more cars were leaving the parking lots instead of arriving. I didn't have my phone anymore so I calculated that, if I had fallen asleep around midnight and rested until I couldn't sleep anymore—about eight hours—that it was probably six in the evening.

There were people selling things on the sand—bathing suits, towels and jewelry among other things—so I took some time to look through the stalls. The cool shade of the tents was a pleasant reprieve from the sun. People eyed me as I passed but I stopped paying attention after a while. I was more interested in what was for sale.

I had just stopped to look at a pile of hand-beaded shawls when I saw my reflection in the mirror.

My jeans were absolutely filthy from tossing around on the dirty warehouse floor and my hair was slightly unkempt. It made sense, now, why people had been looking at me. Not that I looked like a street wraith or anything, but I wasn't exactly pristinely clean either. Quickly ripping off the elastic that I always kept on my wrist I bunched my hair into a messy ponytail, my bangs falling obstinately back into my eyes. I wiped away a smudge of dirt from my cheek with my thumb before standing up, my appearance greatly improved.

"I'm closing up now," the burly man selling the shawls muttered as he watched me fix myself up in the mirror. "You'll have to leave."

"Sure," I said slowly, his instant hostility unsettling.

"Get out of here," he barked when I didn't leave fast enough.

I couldn't help but scowl at him before turning away and back out into the sun.

Two hours flew by quickly as I sat watching the sun set. As twilight fell over Santa Carla the city came to life. Kids rushed down to crowd the boardwalk and the streets brimmed with adults out to have a good time. The lights from the boardwalk rides lit up the town like you wouldn't believe. Santa Carla seemed to thrive off of the energy and excitement the boardwalk exuded.

But I didn't feel like going back to the boardwalk tonight. It was too crowded. Plus I didn't really want to see those boys again and I had a feeling that they would be there. Not that I was so conceded to think that they would be looking for _me_, but I didn't trust myself not to go looking for _them_. Instead, I strolled down the sidewalk going wherever my feet took me. Eventually I stopped outside of Max's video store.

As I went to pull open the door a mousey woman holding a bunch of bright yellow papers caught my eye. I stopped, my hand still on the door, to watch as she taped a single page from the pile to the store window next to me. My heart almost stopped when I saw what it read.

'MISSING,' the flier read in large black letters. Directly under that was a picture of the security guard that had broken up the fight on the carousel last night. The poster continued to read that the guard had gone missing last night. He had never arrived home from work.

I watched sadly as the woman posting the fliers touched the picture tenderly, her eyes welling up with tears. She was obviously the man's wife. She scowled when she caught me looking at her.

Lowering my head quickly, embarrassed, I ducked into the video store.

The store was rather large. Videos lined the two walls while the back wall was covered in a bank of TVs playing cartoons and rock music videos. Neon signs blinked here and there making the cardboard cutouts that dotted the space change hue. Decorative plastic cutouts of television sets hung from the ceiling around the checkout counter and black and white tiles covered the floor. It was trendy, for the eighties anyways.

There were a few other people in the store but Max wasn't one of them. Slightly disappointed I wandered around, browsing. Walking quietly over to the nearest shelf, I picked up the first video that caught my eye: Friday the 13th, Part V.

"That's a really scary one," Max whispered from my left. I jumped when I realized he was there. I hadn't even heard him come up. I smiled after I restarted my heart.

"Really? I've never seen it," I lied before putting the case back on the shelf. Rachel, Sean and I used to have horror movie marathons once a month. We had spent one Halloween watching every single one of the 'Friday the 13th' series instead of going out trick-or-treating.

"Why don't you rent it, then?" Max asked with a laugh. He picked up the movie again and held it out to me.

"I can't," I sighed, crossing my arms under my bosom. "I don't have any money with me." I didn't want to say that I had no money period. Even though I didn't like lying, I had to keep up the appearance that I wasn't actually as destitute as I was.

Max's arm fell back to his side. "Well that's too bad. Maybe another time." We were both silent for a second. I was too embarrassed to look Max in the eye so I pretended to look at the other movies on the shelf. "So," he said lightly, trying to make conversation, "how did you like your first night in Santa Carla, Felicia?"

"It was interesting," I answered hesitantly as I picked up a movie with zombies on the front. I read the title three times but never actually took in what it said. I didn't like the direction that this conversation was going; it was making me anxious.

"Did you find your friends?" Max's borrow was furrowed in thought when I glanced at him. He could tell that I was telling half-truths.

Should I lie to him? It was probably the best way to keep him from reporting me to the police or something but I didn't want to have him find me out. So far, he was the only person I knew in Santa Carla and I didn't want to end up alienating him. "No," I whispered. Max didn't say anything for a long time. I peeked over my shoulder to see if he was still there, which he was. It was a big mistake. I watched as Max's eyes slid from my tangled pony tail to my dirty jeans. His face fell once he put two and two together.

I couldn't look at him anymore.

"Where did you sleep last night?" Max's voice was stern now, like he was my dad and scolding me for coming home after my curfew.

I shrugged trying to act nonchalant about the whole thing. "I found somewhere to lay down," I mused, flipping the movie I was handing over to make it look like I was examining the back cover. Embarrassment gnawed heavily at my stomach.

"Why didn't you say something?" Max sighed as if this should have been the most obvious thing for me to do.

Anger bloomed in my chest evaporating the embarrassment that was silently eating away at me. Placing the zombie movie loudly back on the shelf, I rounded on Max. "Why would I do that?" I snapped. "I don't really know who you are; for all I know, you could have been some psychopath who was trying to kill me—which I still haven't made up my mind about. And besides," I growled, glaring up at him, "I'm not looking for handouts; I can take care of myself. I don't need help."

"Don't you have any family?"

"No. I don't. And, even if I did, I wouldn't ask them for help either."

Max's laughter threw me off. My tirade had amused him instead of making him feel defensive. "You're so stubbornly independent," he chuckled before wrapping his arm around my shoulders. I resisted slightly, but he pulled me away from the horror movies and over to the cashier's counter. He let go of me to grab a sucker from a giant bowl and extended it to me. "I like that in a person. Have a sucker."

"I think I'll pass," I said as my stomach twisted hungrily. "Well, on second thought," I sighed before taking the candy. "Thanks." I hadn't eaten anything since the day previous so the sugary treat tasted better than it should have.

"So, if you're not looking for a place to stay, what _are_ you looking for?"

"Company, I guess." If I was going to be honest with myself I was rather lonely.

"Well I'm glad you decided to stop by. I was a little concerned about you last night," Max chuckled as he watched me enjoy my candy. "You looked confused; I thought you might have been in an accident and hurt your head. Especially after you couldn't remember what year it was, I was worried that I might have to take you to the hospital."

"I knew that was what you were thinking," I laughed, twirling my sucker between my fingers before sucking on it for a second. "You looked like you thought I was crazy."

"It crossed my mind," he whispered with a wink. "I can see that you're not, though. You're just hopelessly stubborn."

"That's me," I shrugged. I heard the door open behind me and a group of people enter the store. I didn't look to see who they were. "But, yeah," I sighed, trying to close the subject, "I'll be fine on my own. Thanks, though, for your concern and the sucker."

"Well, if you ever need anything," Max trailed off, not looking at me anymore. His face hardened into a severe frown as he looked at something behind me. "I thought I told you not to come in here anymore," Max huffed venomously.

Confused, I turned around to see who he could possible be so angry at. I almost choked on my tongue when I saw who it was. The blonde boy with the blue eyes was standing there, smirking at me, surrounded by his three friends. Instead of leaving right away he looked from me to Max a few times, his eyebrow arching with silent questions.

"Get out of here," Max growled, pointing to the door. The boy shrugged ambivalently before made his way out. The other boys followed suit, each one looking from me to Max with pleasantly surprised expressions. I scowled at each boy as they passed by.

"Some kids these days," Max sighed, looking at me like he was enjoying a joke that I didn't understand.

"They're just young," I shrugged, watching as each of the four boys got on motorcycles that were waiting against the curb. They revved the engines noisily before speeding off down the street. "Some people don't know what they want from life so they do regrettable tings in the process of figuring it out."

"Caring and mature too," Max mused. He was looking thoughtfully at me when I turned back to face him. "You're a very interesting person, Felicia."

"You're not so bad yourself," I pointed out, popping my sucker back in my mouth. "Anyways, I better get going. You're probably really busy and I don't want to keep you from work."

"No, no, no," he said quickly, motioning for me to stay. "I have time. Besides, I wanted you to meet my dog, Thorn." He gestured to the floor next to him. A large white dog that looked like a cross between a White Shepard and an Arctic wolf was sitting next to him. He had large, intelligent brown eyes and a happy look on his face. "Say hello, Thorn," Max said cheerfully. Thorn's tongue lolled out when Max mentioned his name, like he was smiling hello.

"Hi, Thorn," I said quietly. Leaning down to the dog's level I cautiously held out my hand for Thorn to smell. When he had sniffed each of my fingers, seemingly happy with what he smelled, I rubbed his head. Thorn's fur felt like silk under my hand.

Not wanting to ignore Max, I dropped my hand from Thorn's head after giving the dog a few good pats. Thorn whined unhappily when I stopped petting him so I continued for a minute longer. "He seems like a very nice dog," I smiled up at Max.

"He's very protective," he chuckled. "You seem hungry," he said suddenly, shifting his attention to me. "Can I buy you something to eat? I know you don't want any pity money, but…"

I thought about it for a second, focusing on petting Thorn. I was a little hungry but it wasn't on the top of my list of priorities. I didn't really want to buy food when I should be worrying about how I smelled. Deodorant, soap and toothpaste were larger concerns than my pesky stomach. "I guess I could make a small exception to my own rules," I said quietly, standing back up. "But not this time, I don't think."

"Oh it's only a little food money," he sighed, still amused.

I shook my head stubbornly. "No, I don't want handouts."

"Well, then don't think of it as a _handout_, per say. Think of it as…" He paused for a moment, trying to think of a better term to assuage my guilt. "Think of it as a gift," he concluded, looking triumphant.

"Well," I hesitated, unsure of how to refuse him again. It was a big mistake.

"Excellent," Max enthused, taking advantage of my silence to bulldoze me into acceptance. I immediately felt trapped and self conscious, so I looked down at my shoes instead of watching him pull out his wallet. "Here's ten dollars," he said.

I looked at the ten dollar bill regretting my split second of indecision. "I don't know," I said slowly. "I can't pay you back."

"Remember: it's a gift so you don't need worry about paying me back. Just don't get yourself hurt," Max laughed before he grabbed my hand and gently folded my fingers around the bill. "That's good enough for me."

"Thank you," I murmured, trying to look grateful instead of embarrassed. "I'll try not to get into trouble."

"Good," he smiled. "Now go buy yourself something to eat."

"Thanks again," I said before leaving.

I walked quickly through Santa Carla searching for a convenience store that sold what I was after. Max's ten dollars felt like a hundred-tonne weight in my pocket and I wanted rid of the excess weight as soon as possible. I mean, sure, he was a night man and all but he was still practically a stranger.

It took a good half hour but I eventually found a little hole-in-the-wall store that sold personal hygiene products as well as food. I felt so guilty for letting him push money onto me that I didn't even take the time to browse for familiar products. I just grabbed the first things I saw and rushed to the counter to pay for them. The cashier gave me a strange look when I thrust my money at him, not waiting for him to tell me the total cost.

"Do you want a bag for this?" he asked slowly, glancing peculiarly from the corner of his eye as he made my change.

"No," I answered quickly. I didn't even realize that I was fidgeting—tapping my fingernails quickly on the glass counter top—until the teen looked down at my hand, his expression one of annoyance. I stopped abruptly, shoving my hands into my pockets to keep them busy.

"Four-twelve is your change," the boy grunted, shoving my leftover money and my purchases across the counter. He ignored me immediately.

Scooping up my things, I stuffed them away in my pockets before saying a quick 'Thanks' and leaving.

My change rattled noisily in my pocket as I strolled down the street like a ball and chain at my ankle. I was headed back to my warehouse hideaway to sit down for a while and come up with a solution to my new top concern: where on earth was I going to bathe?

I had been all around Santa Carla over the past two days—evenings, if you wanted to be specific, but who's counting anyways?—and, much to my chagrin, I hadn't seen a YMCA or anything of the sort. So that was out of the question. And it wasn't like I was going to go running to Max. I would rather never bathe at all than ask him for more help. I could hear that conversation in my head.

_Hey, Max,_ I would say, stupidly sweet, _I know you're a total stranger to me and all, not to mention that you're about twenty years older than I am, but I was wondering if I could come over to your place and have a shower? You see, I'm homeless but I don't want to smell so I need some place to wash up. Could you give me a hand?_

Ugh, not going to happen. _Ever_.

Maybe there was somewhere along the beachfront that had enclosed showers. I had been to Hawaii enough times to know that, usually, there were freshwater showers to wash off under. They weren't always enclosed but, if push came to shove, I could withstand showering in public. The water would be cold I could deal with that, too. I would have to wait until early in the morning so there wouldn't be anyone on the beach…

The more I thought about it the better the idea sounded. Hell, anything was better than asking a perfect stranger to assist me with my hygiene issues. Lost in thought, ironing out the finer points of my planned act of indecent public exposure, I continued along the road oblivious to the world. That was why I didn't hear the motorcycles until they were practically on top of me.

I was almost back 'home' when I heard the roar of the engines and the catcalls and hollers that accompanied them. Stupidly, I turned around, walking backwards, to see who was coming. I guess I expected the bikers to drive past me so I was shocked when they began to slow down to match my backwards lope. Blinded by the proximity of the headlights, I raised my arm to shield my eyes. It didn't really help.

"What do you want?" I said, the strain on my eyes coming through in my voice. I couldn't see who was on the bikes, but I had an idea and it made my stomach fill with butterflies. I didn't notice that I had stopped walking until the four bikes suddenly went quiet.

"Hi," the icey-eyed blonde from the boardwalk—and now the VideoMax—smirked at me, his eyes politely mischievous. He was standing directly in front of me, straddling a mean looking Triumph. Under any other circumstances, I would have asked to take a closer look at the bike but I was so nervous that I couldn't make my mouth work properly. "You look a little lost," he continued when I didn't respond. The others laughed as he spoke and I remembered how hopelessly outnumbered I was.

"I'm not lost," I managed to grumble. Shifting my posture, I stood up straight. I had been subconsciously curling into a submissive ball and the last thing I wanted right now was to look weak.

The gorgeous blonde's smirk exploded into a grin when I glanced up from his bike to look him in the eye. Another wave of butterflies passed through me. "There isn't anything but industrial buildings up here," he said, his tone playfully condescending.

Unimpressed, I narrowed my eyes. "I know that," I said, crossing my arms. "I'm not stupid." I wanted to tack on a 'like some people' but a little voice inside of me warned that it was a bad idea to be confrontational.

"Oooh," the other boys chanted from my sides, mocking me. The blonde laughed along with them. When had they managed to surround me?

"She seems mad," the boy directly behind me teased. I reflexively turned my head in the direction of the voice. The smallest of the three boys, the one with the curly, dirty-blonde hair that was styled in a long mullet, was perched on a tricked-out Honda. He winked playfully at me before worrying his fingernails on his teeth, still smiling around his hand.

A voice on my left hissed a laugh. "She got you scared, Marko?" I glanced at the second unfamiliar sound, immediately sizing up the third boy. He was tall, slim and had beautiful russet skin. Long black hair flowed over his shoulders and into his sparkling chocolate-brown eyes. He raked his eyes over my body, letting them hover on my chest, when he caught me looking at him.

"What's that supposed to mean, Dwayne? I could take her," the boy behind me challenged. I didn't turn to look at him, worried that he might take it the wrong way.

"Yeah right," a voice on my immediate right laughed. My head snapped in the direction of the sound against my will. The fourth boy in the group was tall and slim like the Native American boy, Dwayne. His hair was long, wild and a light shade of sand. "I bet you she could kick your ass. Look at those legs," he smirked. I couldn't stop myself from blushing, embarrassed.

"One more word, Paul, and I swear I'll knock your lights out," the curly-haired boy, Marko, growled.

"What do you want?" I muttered as I turned back to the group's leader, leaving the others to bicker amongst themselves. I had meant to sound assertive and sure of myself but came off as exactly the opposite. The boys had fenced me in between their motorcycles against which I didn't stand a chance of outrunning.

"Boys, our new friend wants to know what we want," he stated, still smiling. A teasing smirk played on his lips; I didn't like the way it touched his eyes. The others broke out in jeers and laughter, instantly forgetting their spat.

Angry and scared, I glared at the blonde in front of me. "Look, if you want money I don't have anything."

"What's your name?"

His new line of questioning caught me off guard. "What?"

"What's your name?" the boy repeated, amused.

"Felicia, but my friends call me Flic" I answered cautiously. "Who are you?"

"I'm David," he smiled. "This is Marko, Paul and Dwayne," he continued, gesturing to the others in turn.

"Pleasure, I'm sure," I said dryly.

David chuckled quietly as he rubbed his gloved hands together. "So, what _are_ you doing up here?"

"Walking," I drawled callously, my eyebrow arching incredulously into my bangs. "What do you want?" I repeated my question again, annoyed that he wouldn't answer me.

"But seriously," he said, ignoring my question a second time. "What are you doing up here? This is no place for… _pretty_ girls, like you."

I bristled, my fist balling up at my side. Another round of mocking 'Ooohs' sounded from the other boys. "Fuck, you are stupid," I growled to myself, rolling my eyes towards the sky. Satisfaction flared through me when David's face hardened. He was insulted.  
"If you really need to know," I spat, past the point of being smart, "I sleep there, in that building." I turned slightly to my left, gesturing to the abandoned warehouse that served as my temporary home.

David's face relaxed into a pleased grin when I turned back to face him. "Ah, I see," he nodded, his face a mask of mock sympathy. "Ran away from your family, huh?" Glancing sideways at me, half smiling, he surveyed my building.

"I don't have a family," I muttered, all traces of my anger washing out of me.

"Really?"

"Nope," I sighed, trying to suck my lost bravado back into my lungs. It worked… kind of. "And here you are, probably thinking that I was some goodie-two-shoes little princess who got mad at her daddy and ran away because he wouldn't buy her the pony she wanted."

"That sounds about right," David laughed, winking playfully at me.

"I am _so_ done with you," I growled, turning my back on him. "Get out of my way," I snapped at Marko. He just smiled at me, not moving an inch. Exhaling slowly to keep from exploding, I violently pushed past him and stalked off down the street. Catcalls and whistles assaulted me as I fled. I was so angry, frustrated and embarrassed that I acted without thinking and raised my left arm to give them all the finger. The boys exploded into laughter after I rounded the corner, finger still held obstinately in the air.

I heard their motorcycles roar to life and take off into the night as I slipped through the sliding door at the back of the warehouse.


	4. Chapter 4

_**Author's Notes**:_

_You'll all be happy to know that I've found a work-around to the Document Manager problem. Thank goodness for Google!_

__

I'm so happy that I've already had so many people reading my story! This is my first ever submission to and I'm very happy with its reception. Please, feel free to leave a review; I would love to know what everyone thinks of the story, my style and how I'm choosing to portray the characters from the movie. Constructive criticism is always appreciated!

As always implied, I do not own the rights to the Lost Boys franchise, etc. etc. so on and so forth. Oh, and mild nudity in this chapter but nothing serious.

____

So, to make a long story short, here's Chapter Four of "Second Chance". Enjoy!

Sincerely,

____

Amaryllidinae

P.S. I'm very sorry about the rush of updates to these first chapters. I've been ill over the past few days and I can't seem to read properly anymore. I meant to do one round of quick revisions, but I kept forgetting to change things. Again, my most heartfelt apologies. -- A.

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Four

MY NIGHTS AND DAYS were officially reversed. Instead of sleeping like a normal person, I was up from around two in the afternoon until about six in the morning, walking around outside to keep busy during my waking hours.

So, it was around two when I woke up the next afternoon, that I gathered up my things from the dusty warehouse office floor and 'got ready' to go outside. To keep from lying down on the hygiene products that Max's money had afforded me, I had slept without my shoes on—they made good storage containers when need be. Although I was going to have to bathe using the beachfront showers—this was the only feasible solution that I could come up with; I wasn't going to ask Max for anything else if I could help it—I was looking forward to getting clean. My hair had to be permanently back in a pony tail now, and my white shirt was edging close to being too dirty to wear. Before I hopped under the water, I had decided that it would be a good idea to wash my clothes. That way they could dry of a little while I washed myself.

I milled around my warehouse until it was very late at night. I was actually looking a little vagabond-ish, so I didn't want to be out in public if I could help it. The hours that I spent alone crept by slowly, but I managed to find some entertainment in deciding what I was going to do with my leftover four dollars and twelve cents.

My stomach was empty and growled frequently. I would have purchased a candy bar or something the night previous, but I was so embarrassed to have Max's money forced on me that I wasn't thinking straight. Unfortunately, though, I was more thirsty than anything. I remembered my science teacher saying, once upon a time, that humans can only go three days without water. Today was my third day in Santa Carla and I hadn't had anything to drink since I… what was the right word? 'Disappeared' from home?

Were Rachel and Sean worried about me? Had they even noticed that I was gone? And what about Joan and Roland? Did they even care that I hadn't been home in three days? Probably not—I used to spent days at a time at my friends houses to get away from them. They probably wouldn't even concern themselves with wondering where I was until about a month from now.

_'Joan, darling,'_ Roland would say in his usual haughty tone over breakfast, _'have you heard anything from that daughter of yours lately?'_

_'No, I haven't,'_ Joan would sniff in reply, her nose perpetually stuck in the air, _'have you, Roland?'_

_'Of course not,'_ he would laugh. _'Haven't you noticed how peaceful it's been around the house?'_

My stomach twisted painfully at the thought of being forgotten, even by the terrible people who called themselves my parents. I knew I could never return home to let my friends know that I was okay, so I wondered if Rachel and Sean would look for me, putting up posters with my picture on it like the wife of the missing security guard had. Would they give up after years of never finding me? Would they, eventually, pretend like I died to make it easier on themselves and move on to make other friends?

Would anyone miss me?

It was after two o'clock in the morning when I finally remembered I had a job to do. Rising up off the floor of the office—and out of my personal hell-hole of self pity—I left the warehouse and headed into town, finding water my next priority after having a bath.

Fifteen minutes later, I arrived at the desolate beach front. The main lights from the boardwalk still shone in the distance but no people crowded the area. Everyone who was normal was at home, sleeping. Perfect.

A short distance from the beach parking lot, two rows of shower heads protruded from a single metal wall. Each separated from its neighbours by opaque plastic dividers. One row faced the parking lot and the other the ocean. I selected the middle shower on the ocean-side of the wall and quickly stripped down.

"Here's to your first act of indecent public exposure," I muttered before turning on the water and flinging myself under the shower head.

The water was frigid as it washed over me and my skin responded in kind. Goosebumps that refused to go away covered me from head to toe as I soaked my hair through and began to wash my clothes. My loan bar of soap was going to have to preform double-duty as body wash and laundry detergent. After my shirt and undergarments were clean, I slung them over the divider to my left and attended to myself. Because my hair was going to take the longest to get clean, I washed it next.

The shampoo I had picked, luckily, had a pleasant floral smell that was similar to what I used to have at home. I put a quarter-sized blob into my hand ran my fingers through the soaking tresses of my hair. I worked up a rich lather, taking the time to massage my scalp. It was a nice experience—bathing on the beachfront—even though the water was freezing and my teeth wouldn't stop chattering. The sound of the ocean lapping against the shore and the running of my shower were the only noises to keep me company. After a few minutes of silence, I found I was enjoying myself enough to start humming some of my favourite songs. The familiar melodies were calming and helped me to forget my worries from earlier in the day.

All of this would have been great _if_ it had gone according to my plan. But, as everyone's good friend, Murphy, once said, 'anything that can go wrong will go wrong'. Like I've mentioned before, I'm a good looking girl. I'm fair-skinned, tall, and thin. I have a well defined stomach, nice legs and large breasts (which is odd for a gymnast, but that's what bindings are for). Therefore, I'm not embarrassed to wear a string bikini or wear tight-fitting clothes. What does embarrass me is to be caught having a shower, buck naked, on the beach.

If I had been caught by some random person, things wouldn't have been so bad. Sure, I would have blushed. Sure, it would have been awkward. But being caught by a stranger was something I could deal with. I mean, why worry about some stranger seeing you naked when you're never going to see him or her again? What I couldn't handle was being caught by someone I knew.

So there I was, exposed in all my glory in the moonlight, singing and washing soap from myself, when the boys showed up—of course, they had to be on the same empty stretch of beach that I was on, but I guess that's to be expected. I had thought, once, that I could never have been more mortified than when I fell off the balance beam when I was six. I was in the finals of a gymnastics competition, preforming in front of three hundred people, when I missed the beam during a backwards rotation. I had fractured my hand and bloodied my nose when I fell and had to be carried off the mats tied to a stretcher. It was three months before I could get back to practicing and another month after that before I could bare to show my face at a competition. In comparison this was much worse by far. This made falling flat on my face in front of a crowd look like I had sneezed during a movie.

The sound of motorcycles was what tipped me off to my audience. The catcalls and hoots that accompanied the roar of the bikes was what told me I should be scrambling to cover myself. Shame I was still covered in soap bubbles and completely unable to do so.

Turning my back to the ocean to hide my more intimate assets, I considered my options as the boys approached. First of all, I knew I couldn't run away; I was still covered in soap. That meant, secondly, that I had to finish up before I could get dressed. So that left me with two choices: I could either, thirdly, huddle in the bottom of my shower stall until the boys left or, fourthly, continue on like nothing was wrong with my back turned to them.

Option 'fourthly' seemed like the most dignified thing to do.

I acted like I had no idea the boys were even there as they came up behind me on foot, secretly glad that the moonlight made it impossible to tell that I was blushing a deep shade of crimson.

"Now that's not something you see every day," David crowed as he neared. I couldn't see what they were doing behind me but, from the gangling of chains, it sounded like Paul had shoved David. Or was it the other way around? I couldn't be sure.

I turned my head to the right, looking over my shoulder, pretending like I had just noticed them walking up to me. To make it absolutely clear that I was fine with them watching, I rubbed the soap off of my arms and shoulders. "What would you like?" I said before tilting my head forward to let water run over my back. My muscles seized slightly, the cold water aggravating my sore back.

"Who knew you were so good looking under all of those clothes," David chuckled. He sounded uncomfortable to be so close to me, like he knew he was being inappropriate. Needless to say, he was still standing there so it didn't much matter how his voice sounded.

"Too bad I can't say the same for you," I retorted before bending down to wash off my calves though I highly doubted that was true. Stunned silence followed. Boys. "If you're done staring," I drawled, acting like I was totally bored with the situation, "I would appreciate it if you all would all leave."

I heard Marko laugh and shove someone. Was it David? "And leave you out here on your own? I don't think so," David finally said, his voice strangely chivalrous.

"Please, do," I growled before shutting off the water. Because I had no towel to dry myself off with, I took a moment to slick the water from my skin. It didn't really do much good but it was the best I could do. So, still practically soaking wet, I wrung out my hair a couple times before wrenching on my underwear and bra. Once I was sufficiently covered—and I use the term extremely lightly; a bra and thong don't really count for much in the way of clothes—I turned to face my audience. Out of the four of them, David was the only one who wasn't leering at me. His eyes were trained intently on a rock that was half buried in the sand. "Why are you still here?" I frowned as I went about gathering up my things.

"You look a little cold," Dwayne laughed, running his finger down my arm. His eyes stopped following his hand when they found my chest. The heat of his touch left a patch of my skin without goosebumps.

I made a disgusted noise in the back of my throat as I pulled away from him. "Keep your hands to yourself."

"Only if you make me," he teased.

"I bet you wish I would because that's the only way I will ever touch you," I sneered, glaring at Dwayne as I pushed past him, making the others laugh. Trudging through the sand, the boys trailing after me, I made my way towards an abandoned bonfire pit a few yards away. Juggling my things, I eventually managed to fish out my zippo from the pocket of my still filthy jeans—washing them was pointless because they would have taken forever to dry—and prepared to light a fire. The coals in the pit were still glowing faintly so it didn't take much to bring a small fire back to life. After cramming my grandfather's lighter back into my pocket I tended to drying my shirt, the boys watching me intently.

"You have a very nice body," David complimented quietly, seating himself on a nearby log, his eyes never straying away from my face.

"Thank you," I murmured, embarrassed. "I'm a gymnast," I offered as an explanation but it sounded stupid after the words came out of my mouth. It wasn't like he cared why I was in such good shape.

"You mean you do, like, cartwheels and stuff?" Paul asked, shoving Marko off of his stump and into the sand before sitting next to David.

"Yeah, _like, cartwheels and stuff_," I repeated blandly, rolling my eyes when Marko picked up a stone and flung it squarely into the side of Paul's head. After a minute of standing next to the fire I was finally dry enough to put my pants on. I brushed away the sand that had stuck to my calves before quickly hopping into my jeans. Once they were done up—much to Dwayne's displeasure; I saw his face fall out of the corner of my eye when I did up the button and zipper—I sat down on David's free side and put on my socks and shoes.

"So, what? Are you like following me around or something?" I asked, trying to sound amused. Truthfully, I was still annoyed that they had the audacity to come up on me while I was bathing. I guess I didn't try hard enough because David laughed.

"We thought you were someone else, you know," he whispered so quiet that only I could hear.

"Like I believe that."

"Well it's true," he smirked, his eyes never leaving the fire. He seemed embarrassed to even glance at me.

Well, good. Serves you right.

I had laid my shirt out next to me on the log when I sat down so I carefully turned it over to dry the other side. It was only slightly damp now. "You never answered my question," I whispered finally, turning slightly to face David. The others were too busy throwing things and screaming at each other to listen to our conversation.

"What was that?"

"I asked if you're following me around or something," I smiled as I pulled out my lighter to worry the lid. The question was silly now that I though about it.

"What would you say if I said yes?" he said, his beautiful eyes dancing in the firelight. He still refused to look at me and watched his friends horse around instead of meeting my eyes.

I thought about that for a second, allowing myself a better look at his face. He was definitely around my age, maybe a year or two older, but something about him made me feel like he was much older than me in some ways. I couldn't really put my finger on it, but it was like there was a much older man hiding under the frigid pools of his eyes. It was intriguing. "I would probably ask you what was so interesting about me, " I shrugged, surprisingly nonchalant despite the fact that I was only wearing pants and a bra around four men, "and then kindly tell you to piss off, no matter what you said. I'm not really into the stalker type; they're a little too clingy for my taste."

He laughed at my joke before resting his chin thoughtfully in a gloved palm. "Well then I'm not gonna say yes."

"Ah, I see," I teased, flipping the lid on my lighter open and closed repeatedly.

"Where did you get that?" David asked suddenly. I supposed that he was talking about my lighter so I launched into the story I had told too many times to count.

"It was my grandfather's and my dad's" I said tenderly, clicking the lid closed. I ran my fingers gently over the engraved Venetian pattern on the surface. "I don't have any brothers so my grandfather gave it to me when I turned fifteen. He told me his father had given it to him when he was that age and that he had passed it along to my dad when he turned fifteen. My dad was supposed to give it to me that year, for my birthday," I murmured, a lump rising in my throat. I cleared it away before continuing, confident that I wouldn't cry. Not again. "But he died four years before. Joan had wanted to throw it away—_to get rid of all the bad memories,_ as she liked to put it—so my grandfather stole it from our house," I laughed, remembering when Joan noticed it was missing. Grandpa had been over for supper and winked at me as she freaked out, tearing through the house to find it. We joked about that often before he passed away. "He wanted to make sure that I could have it, to remember my dad. It's the only thing that I have left of both of them. Well, besides my love affair with motorcycles that is." I fingered the design absently, tracing the pattern with my thumb, as I looked into the fire. The others were still play-fighting in the sand, cussing and laughing loudly.

"What happened to your mother?" David asked, peeking at me from the corner of his eye.

"Oh, you mean Joan," I scoffed. "I don't consider her my mother anymore. Not since she married Roland."

"I take it you don't like him much," David laughed.

"What gave you that impression?" I sighed. "He hated me from the moment he met me and made it his mission in life to turn Joan against me—which he did. They've disowned me," I lied, though it wasn't quite far from the truth.

"And you have no other family?"

"Nope."

"Where did you live before you came to Santa Carla?"

"Out of state," I hedged. "It doesn't really matter, though, because I'm never going back there."

"You said you like bikes?" he asked, switching between topics so fast that I was left a little confused.

"Yeah," I said slowly, gathering my mind back together. "My dad taught me how to ride when I was nine. For my tenth birthday, my grandfather bought me a little dirt bike to keep at his farm. I would chase the horses on it," I sighed, my voice airy as I reminisced. "My dad taught me how to keep my bike in good condition and fix it when it broke down. We would spend hours riding the trails on the acreage together. He loved driving his motorcycle so much," I whispered fervently, remembering the last time I saw my dad. He was on his beloved Honda, pulling out of the driveway to go to grandpa's, a huge grin on his face.

A moment of silence passed, the only sounds the crackling of my little fire, the roar of the tide and the screams of the other boys. I was lost in my memories when David spoke again. "How did he die?"

I felt my face harden into a frown. Clutching my lighter in both hands I stared down at the fire as I spoke, my voice distant with thought. "He was going to visit my grandpa for the day. I had to stay at home to work on some stupid thing for school so I couldn't go with him. He decided to ride his bike even though it was raining, so I told him to drive extra careful and that I would talk to him later. He didn't hear me shout that I loved him before he drove off. He was t-boned by semi on the freeway," I whispered, angry tears pricking in my eyes. I squeezed my hands tighter around my lighter, trying not to cry. I took a minute to make sure that my voice was even before I finished. "The paramedics said that he died instantly and didn't feel a thing. The guy who hit him is in jail now—he was drunk when the accident happened."

And then I remembered who I was talking to.

"Why on earth am I telling you this," I grumbled, embarrassed that I had just shared my most intimate memories with a stranger who just happened to be attractive and somewhat of a stalker. Turning to check on my shirt to divert my attention, I found that it was finally dry and slipped it on after sneaking on some deodorant. "Anyways, now that you have enough personal information to keep your stalker-self satisfied for a while, I'm going home."

"Stay with us," Marko chimed in from across the fire, suddenly aware of David and I again. "It's still early out." He chewed absently on his nails as he waiting for me to respond.

"Early," I repeated sarcastically, smiling. "Yeah. Right. Look, I'm exhausted," I sighed sadly as I pulled on my jacket. Truth was, even though I hardly knew them, David and the other boys were the best company I had since I arrived in Santa Carla. Not to say anything bad about Max—the guy was a saint in disguise—but he was a little old. "I've been up since early this morning," I lied, though it might as well have been true. Sleeping had become increasingly more uncomfortable and I was beginning to worry that my back would never get used to the concrete. I had slept so poorly the night before that I was already running out of gas. "I need to sleep."

"You could stay with us," Paul suggested, casting a quick look to David to gauge his reaction. David didn't say anything negative so Paul exploded into a playful grin, anticipating my acceptance.

"I don't know," I said cautiously, casting David a wary glance. His face seemed inviting enough, so I didn't refuse out right.

Dwayne came up behind me then, clapping his strong hands on my shoulders. I never really noticed how big he was before… "Oh, come on," he laughed, leaning close to my face. I could practically feel the smile he was sporting spread across his lips. "What do you have to lose? It's better than sleeping on the floor of some warehouse offi—"

"—You said you like motorcycles," David said, loudly, cutting Dwayne off.

Pulling free of Dwayne's hands, I took a few steps closer to David. His eyes were hard and intense, like he was angry, though a smile tugged at the corners of his lips. "Yeah, I did," I said slowly. "Why, you offering to take me for a spin on your Triumph?"

"Maybe I am, maybe I'm not," he said his tone coy. "That depends on you, though."


	5. Chapter 5

**_Author's Notes:_**

_Hello again, all._

_I just want to leave a quick note saying that, in this chapter as in some of the earlier ones, I've decided to stick to portions of the original script. You'll recognize them when you read them, but I thought that, since they're my favourtie parts from the movie, they should be included in my little fiction.  
_

_Again, I don't own the rights to the movie yaddah yaddah yaddah—I'm just referencing it._

_Oh, and a question to everyone who's following this story:_

_I've been working on a second version of this story (same plot and everything) but written from David's perspective. I only have two chapters finished (the third one is about ¾ done) but I could upload them if anyone's interested. I'm not sure if I should publish it as a second story or just tag the chapters on the end after "Second Chance" is completed. Let me know what you think._

_Enjoy!_

_Sincerely (and thankful, as always),_

_Amaryllidinae_

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**Five**

I HESITATED FOR A moment before answering. On the one hand, David was in possession of a classic and very attractive motorcycle. Not to mention that The Triumph Tiger 100 was one of my favourite bikes of all time. On the other hand, I didn't really want to run off into the night on the back of David's motorcycle… well, at least right now, anyway. I was so tried that my shoulders were starting to droop. The boys had seemed to have gotten past seeing me exposed, so that was good. Maybe just a peek wouldn't hurt.

"I'll take a look at it," I said trying not to sound as excited as I felt.

Cheering, the others took off down the beach leaving me to put of the fire. After I kicked a sufficient about of sand on the dying flames I raced off in the same direction, catching up to them a little ways away. The were all standing around their bikes and looking proud as punch, too. David's was at the center of the formation, of course, and I felt my breath catch in my chest when I saw the beautiful piece of machinery he was standing next to.

"It's gorgeous," I crooned, bending down to take a look at the engine. The bike was silver—and I literally mean _silver_, the Tiger was plated instead of chromed—and black with a powerful, sleek body. It was in extremely good condition despite the amount of use it got. "The original number plate is still on the fender," I gasped when I saw the raised plate shine in the moonlight. "_And_ the silencers. Wow."

This was a bad idea. Now that I had seen the bike I immediately wanted to ride it. As I stood there, running my hand over my dream machine, I tried to steady my wavering conviction to just leave for the night.

"You like it?" David smiled as I traced the logo with delicate fingers.

"You have no idea," I laughed. "I've wanted to get one of these forever but they're very hard to find where I'm from. Seeing this makes me sad that I had to leave my Harley behind." I brushed my fingers gently over the handlebars, lingering on the grips. My fingers tingled with excitement from being so close to the throttle.

"_You_ have a _Harley_?" Dwayne asked, not bothering to reign in his skepticism.

"Yeah, well _had_. It's probably been sold by now."

"What model?" Paul grunted, instantly settling into the familiarity of shop talk.

"An XL," I said easily, letting Paul assume that I was talking about the 1985 Ironhead instead of what it really was: a 2010 Iron.

"Whoa, that's a nice bike," he smiled, impressed.

"Yeah, it is. My first _real_ bike was a Honda 250," I laughed, "so you can imagine how happy I was when I bought the Harley."

"My offer is still open," David whispered as the others launched into an argument about what was better: my Harley or David's Triumph. He sat sideways on his bike, very close to me.

"I don't know," I said quietly, biting my lip as a war between what I wanted and what I knew was right waged inside me.

David smiled that charming, teasing smile of his as he looked over at my hand which rested gently on the Triumph's headlamp. "It'll be fun. I can see that you really want to go."

"More than anything I've ever wanted," I clarified jokingly.

"Well, then come for a ride. It's not like you have anywhere to be."

I stared longingly at the throttle as I thought, trying to see a way around the rightness of his words. Of course I couldn't so, defeated, I gave in. "Fine."

Swinging easily onto his bike, David grasped the handlebars and waited for me to climb on behind him. I hesitated for a second, considering what I was getting myself into, and then shoved it all to the back of my mind. I was being offered the opportunity to take a ride on a motorcycle that I had been dreaming about since I was twelve. I could worry about being embarrassed later.

Mustering up some of the grace that I only used on the balance beam, I sat myself behind David and wrapped my arms around his waist. And, oh, how tone he was! Even under the layers of his wool duster and leather jacket, I could feel the defined ripples of his abs. I couldn't help but remember my earlier jab about how he looked under his clothes and decided, firmly, that I had been totally and completely wrong.

Butterflies danced in my stomach. I was suddenly afraid to think that they were there was because I was so close to David. My cheeks flushed as that crossed my mind. _It's because of the bike_, I told myself sternly, trying very hard not to think about how good David smelled.

"You ready?" he asked, glancing at me over his shoulder. A smug grin was on his face like he had just won some kind of prize.

I couldn't meet his eyes; I didn't want him to see how red I was. "Yeah, I'm ready. Let's go."

Kicking his bike to life, the engine roared like a wildcat beneath us. The others jumped onto their own machines when they heard David start his bike.

Revving the engine once, David let the bike snarl for a moment before he jammed the throttle. That was all it took for us to go rocketing across the sand.

As we shot off across the beach, the wind whipped luxuriously through my hair and against my face. I had never ridden without a helmet before—my father would never let me and Joan insisted on it because she didn't want me to run the risk of becoming disfigured—and I was surprised to noticed how much I had been missing. The sensation, mixed with the shear speed of David's Triumph, was exhilarating. I couldn't help but smile.

Water sprayed over my legs as we raced through the surf, turned to a fine mist from the speed with which we traveled. The others hollered and hooted as we raced across the sand, weaving back and forth behind us. I wanted to scream with them, I was so happy, but I stopped myself.

That was when I noticed the pier and the dangerous wooden pilings beneath it.

"We're not going under the pier, are we?" I yelled, unable to tell if David could hear me over the roar of the wind.

"You bet we are," he answered, exhilaration radiating off of him, before he increased his speed. I clutched myself tighter to him, unconsciously, afraid that I was going to get hurt. David yelled loudly in response to the hoots of laughter of the others as he threaded his way between the piling at breakneck speed. He was so artful in his handling of the Tiger that I was left awed as I watched him execute turns and avoid collisions in a way that didn't seem possible. It was like his bike was a part of him.

We emerged from under the pier in a blur, rocketing through an area of soft dunes. I let my grip on David's waist tighten again as we headed towards a particularly large dune. He was going to jump it.

I closed my eyes for a spit second before we near the crest of the dune. The sensation of flight with a five-hundred pound motorcycle roaring beneath you is strange. It's like being pushed through the air instead of gliding while your stomach tries to escape through your throat. I yanked my eyes open just before we landed, upright and without wavering, on the sand below.

"You having fun, yet?" David called to me, not looking over his shoulder.

A little shaken from the jump I nodded several times before I found my voice again. "You have no idea!"

We raced down the beach until we hit a road. Launching off of the sand over the curb, we took of down the pavement. Eventually David veered off to the left, turning onto a dirt path. We zipped through the trees, winding effortlessly through the tight-knit trunks. It was dark here and I found myself squinting to see what was coming towards us before we burst out of the trees. A swath had been cut through the forest and cleared of tree, train tracks snaking over the grassy space between the banks of the forest.

Twisting effortlessly alongside the ties, David pushed for more speed. His bike roared menacingly with the effort sending thrills of excitement up my spine. This must have been what it was like to fly. We rocketed along for a good ten minutes before a train trestle loomed up out of the night sky, spanning a large gully that swallowed a vast chunk of the earth. As we raced over the bridge, silhouetted against the night sky, I couldn't help but notice how incredibly high up we were.

The trees began to thin as the trestle disappeared behind us. The ground became lighter and the air smelled more like salt than forest. Eventually we skidded to a halt atop a bluff, the ground falling off into the ocean as it roared about five-hundred feet below.

"So, what'cha think?" Marko laughed when he got off his bike. The second after David quieted the Tiger, I hopped off and fixed my windswept hair.

I couldn't stop smiling. "That was fantastic," I thrilled, my voice rushed with excitement and adrenaline.

"Told you she'd see things our way," Paul laughed, shoving Dwayne. "You owe me a joint."

"Like hell I do," Dwayne grumbled as he put up the kickstand on his bike. "Lets get inside."

I looked around trying to see where 'inside' was. The top of the bluff was flat, sandy and dotted with scraggly tufts of grass. There were no structures in sight.

Once all of the boys had parked their bikes, they started towards the far edge of the bluff. Not wanting to be left alone in the wind, I followed as the others walked into the darkness. Old condemned wooden stairs appeared out of the gloom as we neared the edge of the cliff. They creaked ominously as we descended, and I made a conscious effort to hold onto the rail (even though it didn't look like it could support my weight either). Huge signs on old rusted pilings greeted us at the bottom, reading ominous things like "CONDEMNED," "UNSAFE," and "UNLAWFUL TO GO PAST THIS POINT." I hung back for a second as the others pressed on toward a large opening in the rocks.

"Come on, Flic," Marko called from the black hole in the rock face.

"I don't see how this is any better than where I was before," I grumbled, running to catch up with the others. When I emerged on the other side of the dark hole, I couldn't believe what I saw. A Victorian hotel lobby spread out in front of me, having seemingly plummeted—nearly intact—through a crack in the earth above. The floor was tilted and broken, but I could still tell what it had been before it fell. A front desk sat before me, behind that a spacious lobby with a hand-painted mural taking up all of the farthest wall. There was a wrought-iron elevator in one corner and more besides.

The boys had decorated the space with eclectic pieces of furniture, all things that had obviously been rescued from being thrown away. There was a row of old mattresses along one wall which were shielded by drapes made of different scraps of fabric. Blankets and pillows that wouldn't have gone together in any other setting were piled there in comfortable looking heaps.

Starfish and seashells hung on ribbons and ropes all around the space, making a kind of canopy over the rocky ceiling. Old statues from the original hotel dotted the floor, some still intact others broken. A large fountain that was filled by a giant chandelier dominated the center of the old lobby. Hand-made mobiles of glass balls and more seashells hung over it, tinkling gently in the gentle breeze that constantly swept through the opening to the outside. Shafts of moonlight shoot down from cracks in the ceiling giving the space an ethereal feel.

It was really something.

"This," David explained as he gestured to the hotel, his arms wide, "was the hottest resort in Santa Carla back about eighty years ago. Shame they built it right on top of the San Adreas fault." I walked over to his side, still looking around, when he beckoned. "In1906, when the big one hit San Francisco, the ground opened up, this place took a header into the crack, and bam," he emphasized by smacking his fist into his palm. "Now it's ours."

"Man, you wouldn't believe the cool stuff we've found in here," Paul crowed as he swung from the elevator cage and landed quietly on the ground.

"I believe you," I said. "So, what, you guys just… live here?" The question seemed obvious but I couldn't quite believe that eight men and women would just _let_ their sons live in a condemned hotel.

"Yup," Marko beamed, slapping me on the shoulder as he passed to join Paul at the fountain.

I blinked, astonished. "Your parents just let you?"

"Parents?" Dwayne laughed. "What are those?"

My bow arched incredulously into my hair. "You know, those people who got married and brought you into existence? It's usually a man and a woman but I might be willing to make an exception in your case, Dwayne."

"You're hilarious" he muttered, glaring at me.

I stuck my tongue out him playfully. "That's what people say."

"We do what we want," Marko interrupted as he tossed something—a lighter he scooped up from one of the branches of the chandelier—at Dwayne. "No parents, no rules." Marko balanced on the edge of the fountain before jumping off just before Paul could give him a shove.

"Is this better than sleeping on the floor?" David asked, turning me towards a couple of chairs. One was a beat-up office recliner on wheels, the other an old padded ottoman. I sat down slowly taking and exaggerated glance around.

"Well," I sighed, feigning indifference, "it's better than I expected." I smiled coyly over at him. "I guess I could stick around but it's going to take some convincing."

"Would food do the trick?" David smiled, resting his head against his hand. His eyes were intense, like he was searching my face for something important.

"Possibly," I shrugged. My stomach growled impatiently and I prayed that no one else could hear it.

David smiled, pleased with my answer. "Marko, food."

"Right-o," he nodded, leaving instantly.

"See? All you gotta do is ask." He took a second to fish around inside his jacket pockets before he pulled out a lighter and something else that looked too much like a joint for my comfort. "Appetizer?"

"Uh-uh. I don't smoke weed," I said flatly.

"Oh come on," David encouraged, pressuring me. "What's one or two hits going to hurt?"

"I. Don't. Smoke. Weed." I said each word slowly to make sure that David heard me correctly. He smiled his irresistible smile, winking as he held the joint closer to me instead of backing down. Damn, the boy was persistent. To make sure that we were absolutely clear on the subject, I got up, smacking his hand away, and walked over to the other side of the room.

Paul was goofing around on the fountain, walking in circles, arms outstretched, and looking rather proud of himself. Dwayne was trying his hardest to knock him off and hadn't succeeded yet.

"You're doing it wrong," I said lightly as I poked around. The floor was littered with different things. I found a skateboard, a ghetto blaster, and a host of other nicknacks.

"And I suppose you can do better?" he snapped as I rooted through a small alcove in the rock.

I smiled to myself as I searched, turning back when I found what I was after: a glossy black guitar. It was no surprise that they had one, it was only a matter of finding it. "Of course," I said matter-of-factly, grinning smugly as I passed him on the way back to the ottoman. "I didn't spend fifteen years of my life being screamed at by the world's angriest Russian woman for nothing."

"Oh really?" he challenged, stopping in place to argue with me. That was the only opportunity Dwayne needed.

Reaching up much more swiftly that I would have given him credit for, Dwayne grabbed onto Paul's legs and pulled them out from under him. Paul landed on his backside with a hard thud on the tiles. He grunted at Dwayne as he massaged his tailbone, waiting until the other boy wasn't paying attention before he clocked him on the shoulder.

"I know a little thing or two about balance, yeah," I said with a shrug. Tuning the guitar only took a second—someone else obviously played—so it wasn't long before I was plucking away at the strings. It started out as nothing in particular, just random chords in scale, but it eventually morphed into the opening bars of my favourtie song: a french lullaby that my father used to sing to me every night as I fell asleep. "I'm a gymnast, remember? I do 'cartwheels and stuff'. Or were you not paying attention?"

"Prove it," he challenged.

I shook my head in beat to the song, concentrating on the frets. "Nope, not going to happen. I really don't feel like killing myself," I hummed. "I have _so_ much to live for, you see."

David was watching me intently and I saw him grinning out of the corner of my eye. "You're good," he said, impressed.

"Don't sound so shocked," I teased, glancing up at him through my lashes.

"What song 's that?"

"It's a French song; nothing you would know," I said evasively, embarrassed that I was humming a lullaby to myself. I stopped playing, focusing my attention on David. Sadly, I'd never been fond of eighties rock so I had nothing to play except for lullabies and songs that hadn't been written yet.

"Start from the beginning and sing for us, if you can." Everything David said or did was an attempt to goad me on. Moving my fingers absently over the strings, I stared back at David trying to understand his expression. It was like he was laughing at my attempts to resist doing what he wanted, his mirth barely managing to break through at the corners of his mouth.

"You won't understand it," I said slowly, scrambling internally for a better reason not to keep from playing.

"Explain it, then," Dwayne said easily as he lobbed pieces of gravel at Paul.

"It's a love song," I muttered, tapping a beat on the glossy body of the guitar. "I doubt you'll like it."

David relaxed back in his chair, motioning as a king would for his minstrel to begin playing. "Try me."

"I'm not a dancing bear," I growled before cramming my lips tightly together and glaring at him. I plucked out the notes for the words before playing the actual melody. I had almost sung for him. Almost.

Marko return from his errand in the middle of my wordless performance. Without skipping a beat, I continued playing.

"Feeding time!" he called loudly, rattling the large brown box in his arms as he bounced down the stairs.

"Chinese, a good choice," David smirked as Marko passed him two white boxes.

"Over here, bud," Paul called, holding out his hands so Marko could toss him some food. He caught it effortlessly. Paul then passed that box onto Dwayne before Marko threw him a second to keep for himself. Pulling out the final box, Marko tossed the large container to the side and perched himself on top of a beat-up wooden crate.

I watched as David opened the two containers in his lap. He stuck a plastic spoon in one and chopsticks in the other. After a moment of careful deliberation, he handed the one with the spoon out towards me. "Would you like some rice, Felicia?"

"No, I'm fine," I said quietly. My stomach twisted angrily in protest, threatening to growl loudly enough for the others to hear. It was nice that he wanted to share with me but I couldn't pay him back.

"Oh come on," he laughed, still offering the box to me. "It's just rice. How could a billion Chinese people be wrong?"

The other boys laughed around their food. My stomach growled accusingly.

I looked at the box David was holding out to me. It overflowed with rice that, despite the bland colour, made my stomach grumble again. I was going to regret this later I told myself as I set down the guitar from my lap and took the box. "Thanks," I sighed, hoping desperately that my stomach hadn't given me away.

David watched me closely as I picked up the spoon he had stuck in the mound of food and placed some in my mouth. It was plain but the taste made my stomach stop hurting. I went back to looking around the cavern as I chewed, avoiding David's eyes. He was watching me closely as I ate and it made me feel uncomfortable, like I had the first time I saw him on the boardwalk. When I looked around, the others were looking at me in the same way. It made me feel like I was asking about a joke that I should have known the answer to.

"So," David said calmly, looking away from me when I went to meet his gaze, "how do those maggots taste?" I was just about to swallow but I stopped.

"What?" I mouthed, not wanting to speak with my mouth full of food. Not like the boys would have cared, but I wasn't going to lower myself to their standards.

"Maggots, Felicia," David repeated, looking at me like I was stupid. Paul and the others snickered quietly in the background. "You're eating maggots. How do they taste?"

"Yeah, right," I whispered around my food suddenly too scared to swallow. Looking down at the box in my hand—against my better judgment, I might add—I struggled not to instantaneously throw up. What I had thought was rice was actually a crawling pile of tiny white maggots, all desperate to escape the Chinese food container.

Repulsed, I spat out my food on the ground and dropped the box. Cramming my eyes shut, I tried to get every trace of the disgusting bugs from my mouth with my fingers. The others laughed uproariously at my expense.

"That's sad," Paul snickered from behind David. I opened my eyes at the sound of his snide comment and watched as he popped a piece of meat into his mouth.

"Sorry about that," David placated, his eyes mischievous. "My mistake."

"What the fuck are you playing at?" I growled before looking back at the box on the ground. Rice spilled, white and motionless, out of the box and onto the dirty floor. There wasn't a maggot in sight.

I stared, shocked and confused, down at the ruined food, trying to make sense of what just happened. I had clearly seen the maggots in the box before I dropped it. I had felt them moving around through the cardboard… Hadn't I?

"No hard feelings?" David asked as he examined his own food.

"No," I muttered, not looking at him. I couldn't take my eyes off the ground. What was going on? Maybe I was starting to go loopy from lack of food and water… Oh, fuck. Water. I knew I was forgetting something!

"Here. Try some of these," David murmured as he held out his own box to me. I leaned forward to inspect the contents and gagged when I saw what he was offering me: a wriggling pile of slimy brown worms.

"They're worms," I declined, bile rising in my throat.

David laughed, looking back into the box. "What do you mean they're worms, Felicia?" With that, he picked up some of the box's contents—which I was sure was worms—and raised them to his lips.

"Don't eat that," I gasped, reaching out impulsively to stop him. Of course I reacted too slowly and grabbed David's arm just as he slid the clump of the wriggling creatures into his mouth. I almost threw up a second time.

"Why?" he smiled after he finished chewing. "They're only noodles, Felicia."

The others burst out laughing as I snatched the box from David and looked at the motionless food inside.

I'm going insane.

Just as I turned my head away, my brow furrowed deeply with confusion, I caught a glimpse of David beckoning Marko over. The shorter boy leaned close to David, listening intently to the inaudible whisper of his voice. A second later, I heard him leave and retrieve something. The sound of a stopper being pulled out brought my attention back to David and I watched as he took a swig from the jeweled bottle Marko had brought him. He winced when he swallowed as if the liquid burnt his throat.

"Have some wine," he offered calmly, extending the bottle to me. I took it from him hesitantly, examining the dark red liquid through the glass. The others fell silent as I took time to inspect the bottle. It was made of clear glass, covered with silver and what looked like—and, for all I knew, they probably were—rubies.

Lifting the bottle to my nose, I smelled the contents. It smelled sweetly of wine but, just beneath the burning fragrance of the alcohol, was a hint of something salty and metallic. Taking in another deep whiff of the liquid I tried to place the strange rusty fragrance. I had smelled this salty-metal-rust fragrance before so often, in fact, that I should have known the name for it instantly. The fact that it had taken me this long to think of the name was testament to how loopy I was going. "This smells like blood," I muttered to myself. When I looked up at David I knew something was off. I didn't like the way he and the others were watching me, like they were waiting to play another trick on me.

"I think I'll pass," I hissed acidly, holding the bottle back to David, fed up with his pranks. I was also hurt that he would go out of his way to bring me here only to make me feel like the world's biggest fool. More so, I was angry with myself for being so trusting and stupid to let him.

The boys exploded with laughter only making me feel more embarrassed and upset. Dwayne even shook so hard that it only took a light shove from Paul to make him fall over.

"Blood," David repeated, incredulous. "Now, why would I do that to you?" he chuckled as he relaxed in his chair, effectively moving himself out of my reach in the same move. "It's wine, I swear. I had some, remember?"

"Oh I don't know," I seethed, glaring at him. "I can think of two really good reasons at the moment." You are so lucky I'm so embarrassed that I can't think of a good enough string of words to scream at you. Somehow, 'Two-timing, double-crossing, sadistic bastard spawn of an inbred disease-ridden penny-whore' doesn't fit just right.

"C'mon, _Flic_, don't be a pussy," Marko goaded, motioning for me to take a swig with his chopsticks. "It's just wine."

I didn't look at him. Instead, I kept staring blackly at David trying to read his frigid eyes. He didn't give anything away.

Maybe I was overreacting. After all, hadn't the rice turned out to be just that? Rice? And the same thing went for David's noodles. Maybe my nose was just reacting improperly to the burn of the alcohol because I hadn't had enough water. And since when did a small mouthful of wine hurt anyone? I really wanted these guys to think I was good enough to be considered a friend—they were the first young people who were almost worth knowing that I had met since I got here. Jeeze, peer pressure's a nasty trick.

Taking one last glance at the bottle and then at David—who nodded encouragingly—I lifted the bottle to my parted lips and took a drink.

The liquid was lukewarm and sweet. Like David, I couldn't stop myself from wincing as I swallowed; the wine was deceptively strong and burned all the way down my throat. My stomach even felt weird afterwards. Warmth filled my gut, like I had just taken a shot of hard liquor, but in the strangest way I had ever experienced. It tingled too much, like somehow my entire midsection was on pins and needles.

"Bravo!" David hollered as I lowered the bottle and wiped my hand across my lips before handing the bottle back to him. He quickly stopped the neck and passed it back to Marko who ferreted it away.

It wasn't long after that the strange feeling in my stomach spread to the rest of my body. The room seemed to spin around me and a light pounding began at the base of my neck. The boys—David included—reveled around me, ecstatic for a reason that I couldn't quite remember. Still seated, I watched as the cavern walls wavered once before my eyes unfocused. Not wanting to pass out—that seemed like the worst thing that could possibly happen now—I shook my head a few times to try and clear my head.

"You alright, Flic?" Paul's voice was distant, like someone had shoved cotton balls into my ears.

I looked a Paul but didn't really see him. I've never had glasses—I was blessed with 20/20 vision—so it was a strange sensation, not being able to see properly. Blinking a few times to try and clear the haze from my eyes, I frowned when things didn't return to normal.

"Yeah, I'm fine," I lied, "I just need some fresh air." I got up without waiting for more conversation. Pushing through the boys, I all but ran from the cavern and out to the ocean.

The sea air didn't help much. I felt worse as I leaned, head in my hands, on the rail just outside the entrance to the boy's hideaway. The waves roared in my ears, making me feel dizzy.

"You're a lightweight," David crooned from my left. I had been so focused on massaging my temples that I hadn't heard him come up. I jumped at the sound of his voice.

"No I'm not," I argued faintly. "I haven't had any food or water in three days so that wine went straight to my head. Under normal circumstance, I could probably drink you under the table."

He laughed loudly making me feel like he was enjoying a joke that I wasn't aware of. "We'd have to test that out but you could be right."

"I am more often than not," I moaned. The throbbing of my neck had migrated into a full-blown headache. My pulse was pounding so heavily that my ears had started to ring.

"You look like you're going to fall over," David teased, though I swear I heard a slight hint of worry in his voice. Considering my state, though, I could have been wrong.

"Maybe. I'm trying not to."

"You don't trust me to take care of you?"

I glared sideways at him. "Why on earth would I trust you? You'd rather make fun of me than try to be nice to me. I'd probably wake up in the middle of nowhere."

He found my words humorous rather than hurtful as I had intended them to be. The quaver in my voice probably hadn't helped my cause much. "You should trust me because you have no one else to rely on."

"I have myself, and that's been good enough to get me this far in twenty-one years," I muttered, gritting my teeth as my headache intensified. Lightness enveloped my head like a fog and my eyes felt impossible to keep open.

And then my legs weren't there anymore.

I didn't feel it when my knees gave out, but the rush of air past my ears clued me into what was going on. I was falling, the railing rushing up to meet my face.

David caught me just before I managed to fracture my forehead. His hands were painfully tight on my forearms and I thought, vaguely, that I should complain. I couldn't make the words come out. It was like my brain wasn't connected to my lips.

"Felicia?"

Blackness bloomed at the corners of my eyes as I stared up at David. How had I ended up on the ground? And why was David so close to me? Were we outside? Where am I?

"Felicia?"

My eyes fluttered once or twice before I let them close. It was so hard to keep them open.

An eternity passed before I felt something brush against my back and legs. Soon after, I was being catapulted into the air, crushed against something warm and hard… And flying? Was I moving? And what was that noise? The sound was familiar, like voices, but what were they saying? All of the words were running together into a hum…

The hard warm thing pressed against my side vanished suddenly and was replaced by something cool, soft and smooth. So sudden was the change that I felt like I was falling. I tried to reach my arms out to stop myself but they wouldn't respond. Something heavy was pinning them at my sides. Panic momentarily broke through the fuzzy mess that was my brain. Why couldn't I move?

But, then again, why did it matter? I was so comfortable, so relaxed. It would be too easy to just close my eyes and rest…

Blackness overtook me and my mind went mercifully blank.


	6. Chapter 6

**_Author's Notes:_**

___Hello again!_

_____Just wanted to say thanks for all of the great comments so far. It's really nice to hear what you all think about the story. I'm currently working on editing the next three chapters (seven to nine) so those should be up within the next three days or so._

_______And on Second Chance's sequel (or whatever you'd like to call it), First Weakness, I've decided to post it (separately) at a later date. I'm going to throw myself, whole hog, into Felicia's version before I go back to David's. I will say, however, that I'm going to edit the first two chapters and (possibly) post them for everyone to read before I set that fic aside for a while._

_________Back to Second Chance: this will be the last chapter that involves direct/notable references to the movie. The scene involved in this chapter is my all-time favourite! After this, it's all original._

___________I'm starting to sound like a broken record, but you all know the drill about the movie. Blah blah blah, blither blither blither. I don't own the rights so on and so forth…_

_____________Enjoy!_

_______________Sincerely,_

_______________Am__aryllidinae_

_________________

* * *

_

**Six**

I DIDN'T KNOW WHRE I was when I woke up. Grogginess made my mind slow and my thoughts disjointed. A gossamer canopy of fabric hadn't been in the warehouse the last time I checked and the floor was most definitely not this comfortable. Panicked I froze in place, only allowing my eyes to move.

My head was resting on a mountain of pillows and a silky comforter was draped over my legs. I was laying on a bed—that was certain—but I had no idea where I was. The last thing that I clearly remembered was running out the cavern after I drank the wine David offered me. After that was a total blank. Just _thinking_ about it made my head spin viciously.

Sitting up, I rubbed my forehead and looked around. Swathes of fabric drooped down from the canopy above making intermittent dividers in around me. More pillows and blankets spilled in a mutlicoloured rainbow in either direction. Tossing off the blanket I moved, trepidatiously, to the edge of the mattress. I hesitated before cautiously pulling the curtain that separated me from the outside away. I immediately recognized where I was.

Somehow, I had managed to make it back into the boy's cave to lie down.

Pulling the curtain away with more confidence, I looked around the room. Shafts of afternoon sunlight spilled in through the cracks in the ceiling, dust motes dancing in the light. The space was eerily quiet and the boys were nowhere in sight.

"David?" I called out, stepping down from the mattress. No answer.

My knees trembled threateningly as I stood looking around for any sign of the others. My muscles felt like rubber, weak under my weight, and seemed ready to give out at any moment. Holding onto the curtain next to me for support I tried to steady myself. I had slept peacefully all through the night though I felt more drained than I ever had since I arrived in Santa Carla. I was suddenly so overcome by exhaustion, in fact, that I had to sit back down. Giving up on standing, I flopped backwards onto the pillows and traced patterns on my shirt as I thought.

If I hadn't seen them here last night, I would have believed that they boys had simply vanished. Where could they be? They weren't sleeping anywhere that I could see and I most definitely couldn't hear them off in the distance. Maybe Marko had lied when they said they lived here. It wouldn't have surprised me if all of them were back at home with their families where they belonged. I should have known they were leading me on. Fool me once, shame on you; fool me twice, shame on me.

I drifted off into a light slumber somewhere between thoughts. Each of the boys faces flashed endlessly behind my eyes as I hovered between consciousness and the oblivion of deep sleep, David's popping up more often than I would have liked it to. And the voices! I could hear David calling my name in my waking dreams, over and over and over.

_… __Felicia__… __Felicia__… __Felicia__…_

My eyes flew open just after the sun set. I didn't get up right away. Instead, I lay there on top of the blankets waiting to feel drained like I had before. But grogginess didn't cloud my mind and exhaustion didn't sap my strength. It was like the darkness the enveloped the cave flicked a switch on inside me, I was so filled with energy to get up and run around. I had to reign myself in before I stood up.

"You're up," David called pleasantly, "I was beginning to worry about you." He and the boys had just returned back to the hideaway, their entrance was noisy as usual. I watched as Paul, illuminated by a beam of moonlight, tossed lit matches into drums at the entrance. Fires exploded into life casting a flickering glow over the cave.

"Looks like it," I said quietly, stretching out of habit though my muscles didn't feel tense. "Where were you guys? I couldn't find you earlier."

"Around," David said coyly, seating himself on the edge of the stairs. The other boys scattered around the cave, entertaining themselves by trying to see who could climb to the top of the elevator cage the fastest.

I shot David a disapproving glare before I sauntered over to him. The butterflies from last night took flight again when he patted the stone next to him, inviting me to sit. "I don't care where you were," I clarified before plunking myself down next to him, "I was just surprised that you guys weren't here." I cast a glance over to David, not meeting his eyes, before I looked down at my hands. My knuckles were stiff as I folded my hands, so I went to bend back my fingers. That was when I noticed how long my fingernails had gotten. Usually, I kept them cut short because I play the guitar—they had been cut down to the quick only last night. Now, as I looked at them, they were extending about half a centimeter over the ends of my fingers. I couldn't stop staring at them.

"… Are you listening to me?" David asked, his eyes dancing with silent laughter.

"Uh, sure," I said quickly, still staring, perplexed, at my hands. "What was that?"

He smiled, following my gaze down to my hands. I quickly flexed my knuckles, cracking them loudly to make it look like I was doing more than just staring at them. "We're going to go out," David said smoothly, still looking down at my hands.

"_We_?" I asked incredulously. "Would I happen to be a part of this 'we'?"

"If you want to be," he shrugged, taking my hand before I could sit on them. The leather of his gloves was cold on my skin; I hadn't realized I was flushed until he touched me. "Your nails are long."

"I've noticed," I blushed, as he turned over my hand and looked at my palm. I was happy to let him hold onto it. Electricity jolted up my palm and to my heart as he spread out my fingers, the leather of David's gloves gently tracing the folds of my skin.

"Why do you wear gloves?" I asked, a shiver running up my spine as David's finger grazed a scar I had on my palm. "You never take them off."

I felt David bristle defensively. "Just because," he said coldly, dropping my hand back into my lap.

Rejection flared in my chest. Casting my eyes back to my lap, I edged a little father away from him. An awkward silence filled the gap between us. David and I sat watching as Paul tried to catapult himself up the side of the elevator cart. He looked like he was going to make it to the top but he fell short, landing gracefully back on the ground.

"How are you feeling?" David asked suddenly.

"Fine," I said, slowly. I couldn't understand why he would ask that. Didn't I look okay? "Why do you ask?"

I relaxed when he flashed me his crooked smile. My body had unconsciously tensed in response to his curtness. "You passed out, remember?"

"No, I don't remember," I stammered. "When?"

"Really?" he laughed, turning infinitesimally closer to me. His smile exploded into a laugh when he saw my face. "What's the last thing you remember?"

I thought about last night for a moment. There was the food, and then the wine and then what? My head felt light at this point so I stopped trying to remember. "Having a drink," I muttered, rubbing the bridge of my nose to try and make my head stop rebelling.

David was trying not to laugh when I looked over at him. "Hm," he coughed when I glared.

"What happened?" I barked.

"Oh, nothing really. You left to go outside and passed out. You almost fell into the water."

"Oh."

"Yeah," he smirked. "I had to carry you back inside."

"How _chivalrous_. I'm surprised you didn't just leave me there."

"You were in the way," David shrugged, his eyes still laughing.

"That sounds more like you," I grumbled, watching as Marko tried his hand at scaling the elevator cart. He backed up a good ways before flying across the ground and into the air, managing to catch a firm grip on the top as he jumped. Using his legs, he pushed himself up and onto the iron structure. Paul and Dwayne were furious that Marko, the smallest of the three, had succeeded so they doubled their efforts to join him. Marko, in the mean time, tried to stop them by pelting rocks upon their heads. What had started off as a contest quickly turned into a game of King of the Hill.

"So, have you decided whether you'd like to come with us?" David asked quietly as we watched the three others roughhouse.

"Depends on where we're going," I said finally. "If there's any more rancid food involved, I think I'll have to ditch you guys." Glaring sideways at David I waited expectantly for an apology. I clearly remembered that portion of the evening and I was still a little mad about it.

"No hard feelings, remember?" he smiled, amused.

"I passed out. Maybe my memory is a little more patchy than I thought…"

He coughed a laugh before running his fingers through his hair. The scent that wafted off of him was intoxicating. "I said I was sorry."

"I don't recall hearing that," I teased, my heart fluttering nervously.

"Selective memory loss. Interesting."

I shrugged. "I have to work with what I'm given. So, are you going to tell me where you want to run off to or am I just going to have to make assumptions?"

"Depends on what you assume," he echoed, smiling.

I rocked back to lay across the stairs, looking at the ceiling. Taking my time, I folded my arms behind my head to cushion them against the cold granite. David made an impatient grunt as I stalled on purpose. "Well," I sighed, "I would assume that you're up to no good, as usual, so you're probably planning on going to do one of two things. Either, a), you're going to go cause trouble on the boardwalk, or, b), you're going to cause trouble at another undisclosed location." I turned my head to look at him, a smug smile on my face.

He smiled back, sending a wave of butterflies through me. "Why don't I just show you?"

I sighed, trying to calm my racing heart. I shouldn't be feeling this way about such a cocky and sometimes mean man. "I think I'll have to say no. You could take me into town, though," I suggested lightly. "It's a long way to walk from here and I wouldn't mind going for another ride on your Triumph."

"Where are you going?" he demanded as if I had just told him I was going to the moon.

"To see a friend," I said coolly. I didn't like his tone; he was talking like he had the ability to control what I did, which he most assuredly didn't. "Why does it matter?"

"It just does," he growled.

"Well it shouldn't," I huffed, sitting upright to better glare at him. "Just drop me off somewhere in town that's along the way to wherever you're going."

"How will I find you?"

"Maybe I don't plan on coming back here."

"You'd rather go back to the industrial district? Don't be stupid."

"The only person who's being stupid here is you."

"How?"

"How are you _not_?" I spat. "You barely know me and you're already trying to dictate what I can and can't do and who I can and can't see. All I'm trying to do is give you some breathing room by spending some time alone."

David's prepared retort faltered on his lips degenerating into a low growl. I smiled smugly. Serves you right. We sat there, staring at each other, for a long time. I was so focused on David that I didn't hear the other boys anymore. They were still horsing around on the elevator but, aside from that, I didn't care what they were doing. All I could think about was what Melany had told me in her caravan cart: _Always stand your ground._ I wasn't about to budge on this. I wanted to go into town to see Max and let him know that I hadn't fallen off the face of the earth or gotten myself killed and David was going to take me into town. Whether he found me later to bring me back here was irrelevant. I would cross that bridge when I got there.

Another long moment passed with David and I glaring, unblinkingly, into each others eyes before he abruptly turned away.

"C'mon, we're leaving," he called out to the others who were all perched together atop the elevator. I watched as each boy jumped down to the ground, landing gracefully on the balls of their feet. They hardly made a sound. "Get up," he grunted at me before leaving.

"Ass," I muttered as he left, glaring at his back.

"Here," Dwayne said as he held out his arm for me to take. Wrapping his hand over mine, he pulled me up easily with one hand.

"Thanks," I said before following after David.

I jumped slightly when Marko came up behind me and placed both of his hands on my shoulders as we ascended the rickety stairs outside. "You pissed him off," he laughed quietly into my ear.

"Ya think?" I said, sarcasm abound. Marko gave a gentle push to the side of my head before he let go of me. David was waiting at his motorcycle when the rest of us reached the top of the bluff.

I had forgotten about the fact that I had to ride _with_ David on the way into Santa Carla. Much to my chagrin, Paul, Dwayne and Marko took off into the night before I could ask one of them to let me ride behind them. Gliding over to David, nose slightly stuck in the air, I climbed on behind him.

"You holding on?" David grumbled, glaring at me over his shoulder.

I snaked my arms hesitantly around his muscular waist, trying desperately to keep my mind from wondering what the rest of him felt like. "Don't be such a sad sack," I muttered. "If it'll cheer you up," I said, quiet with resignation, "I promise I'll come back here later." David's passive-aggressiveness made me feel like I had hurt his feelings and I didn't want that.

I literally felt the tension ease from David's muscles after I made my promise. He still wasn't talking, though. So, silently, he kicked the Tiger to life and we took off into the night after the others.

Fifteen minutes later, David slid to a halt in the middle of Santa Carla. I hopped off of the back of the Triumph quickly and set about making myself look presentable. "I'll find you later, or something," I said as I fixed my hair and jacket. "If I can't I'll just walk back to the bluff."

David let his eyes wander from my feet back up to my face. "Alright. See 'ya."

"Bye," I scoffed, rolling my eyes. The boys revved their engines before I turned my back on them and walked away. They tore off in the opposite direction, back out of the city.

It didn't take me long to get to the VideoMax. Luckily enough, David had let me off only a few blocks away. When I entered the store, Max was nowhere in sight. Thorn greeted me instead, bumping his head forcefully into my leg.

"Hey, buddy," I said sweetly, bending down on one knee to look Thorn in the eyes. He seemed genuinely happy to see me and wagged his tail when I ran a hand over his head. "I missed you."

He grunted a whine in return, bumping his wet nose on my palm.

"Sorry I didn't come and say hi. I've been a little busy."

Thorn gave me a disbelieving look before his tongue lolled happily out of his mouth, showing off his large pointy teeth.

"Well I have been," I muttered to him, ruffling his soft ears with both hands. "I made some new friends. They keep me occupied so I'm not coming in here and bugging Max."

"That's fantastic," Max called boisterously from behind me, making me jump. I stood up, abandoning Thorn, like someone had electrocuted me. "Sorry," Max apologized when he saw he had crept up on me, "I didn't mean to scare you."

"Just let me restart my heart," I laughed, touching my hand to my chest to try and steady myself. After a few deep breaths I was ready to talk again. "How's it going?" I asked casually, scratching Thorn's head absently after the dog nudged my leg.

"Not bad," Max said happily. The store was full with customers, most of whom were locals renting videos. There were a few people browsing the souvenirs but they, too, had videos tucked under their arms. "What about you? I haven't seen you lately." Max was definitely the overprotective-father-type even though he never mentioned having any children or being married. He would make a good dad one day.

"Oh, I'm fine. I've been keeping busy by keeping out of trouble," I smiled.

"That's good," he said, relaxing audibly.

"You really shouldn't worry about me," I sighed. "I'm fine. I just wanted to stop in so you wouldn't think that I was sucked into a black hole or something."

Max shrugged like it was something that couldn't be helped. "Well, I'm glad to hear that you're doing alright. Now, you said you made some new friends?" Yup, definitely the overprotective-dad-type.

"They're just some local people my age," I hedged, remembering the last time I had come to visit Max. The black look that he had given David and the boys was enough to tell me that I shouldn't mention them.

Casting me a sideways glance Max surveyed my face like he was looking for some hint that I wasn't being completely honest, which I wasn't. "Where did you meet them?"

"Around," I shrugged, sounding like David. That made me smile.

"I don't suppose these friends are helping you with food?"

"No, that's under control," I slowly. Now that I thought about it, my stomach had stopped hurting. Yesterday, I had to pray that other people couldn't hear my stomach rumbling. Today, I felt fine. I was full of energy, I could focus and my stomach was mercifully quiet although I hadn't eaten anything since—what day was it now? Tuesday? I wasn't counting last nights Chinese food fiasco as a meal. I did more watching that actual eating.

"What's on your mind?" Max asked quietly. "You look lost in thought."

"Oh, nothing," I said quickly. "Thank you, again, for that gift, by the way," I rushed, trying to change the subject. Sort of.

Max waved my thank you away. "Like I said, don't worry about it. You seem quite responsible so I'm sure you put it to good use."

"Yeah, I did," I said as I looked down at Thorn. He gazed up at me, his eyes sparkling intelligently, and barked. I patted him on the head a few times before looking back up at Max. He smiled expectantly, waiting for me to explain. "I spent some of it on food and then bought some other things to take care of myself."

"Have you found a decent place to spend the night?" he asked, his tone taking on a very serious timbre.

I looked up at him—he was very tall, probably a good six-foot-three at least—and nodded. "You're starting to sound like my dad," I teased lightly, trying to change the subject again.

Max laughed loudly, his head rocking backwards slightly. "I guess you're right. I can't help it; you're so sure of yourself."

"And what? That makes you think that I actually can't take care of myself?"

"Kind of," he whispered, winking at me. "But, honestly, Felicia," he said sternly, his mood shifting like quicksilver, "have you found somewhere safe to rest your head?"

I rolled my eyes. "This was cute about five minutes ago, but it's getting a little annoying now. Yes," I sighed, when Max arched any eyebrow at me, "I have found somewhere to sleep."

"Good. You know, the eighties is the 'cute' decade," he explained with a grin. "I'm only trying to keep up with the times."

"That's news to me," I muttered, jamming my hands into my pant pockets. Thorn whined up at me, his eyes pleading for me to continue paying attention to him. Shaking my head—like he knew what that meant…—I took a tentative step away from Max. "Well, you seem busy and I don't want to keep you from your customers." I smiled even though I wasn't feeling very friendly anymore.

"Don't worry about the customers," Max pleaded, beckoning me to come closer, "I've just hired some new help, so I have more time to—" He cut off mid-sentence when the loud revving of engines exploded from outside.

Whipping around, I looked out onto the street. David and the others were there, waiting against the curb, making as much noise as was humanly possible. I could hear Marko and Paul calling to me through the glass once they saw they had captured my attention.

"Flic!" Paul screamed before sticking two fingers between his lips and whistling loudly. The others laughed when I glared and turned my back to them, embarrassed.

"You know them?" Max asked, glaring at the boys over my shoulder.

I shrugged, trying to make it seem like no big deal even though it definitely was. "Yeah. They're not so bad once you get to know them."

Max tore his attention away from the boys and back to my face with some effort. He smiled benevolently down at me, as if I was the saint and not him. "You really are something," he sighed, the sound almost wistful.

"Only when I want to be," I smiled. "Anyway, I have to go. I'll catch you later?" I meant for that to be a definitive statement but it came out as a question when Max glanced darkly over my shoulder at the boys. If he didn't want to talk to me anymore because of my new friends, far be it from me to force my company upon him.

Max's eyes snapped back to me. "Oh, sure. Just drop in the store any day of the week after eight and I'll be here."

I nodded, backing away to the exit. "Okay, I'll see you around then. Later."

"Goodbye," he waved, still grinning pleasantly at me as I turned and ran out to the street. The boys were still acting like fools when I approached them.

"Took you long enough," Dwayne teased.

"Yeah, well I really wasn't expecting you to show up."

"You hitting on older men, Flic? Never guessed you were into that," Marko laughed. He cast a quick glance to David before worrying his fingernails, a grin spreading across his face from behind his hand.

"Fuck you, Marko," I huffed. "If anything, _he's_ the one hitting on _me_." The boys snickered quietly. I immediately felt like I had missed a joke. "What's so funny?" I snapped, looking to David for an explanation.

"C'mon," he smiled, gesturing for me to get behind him on his bike. "We have to go."

"Go where?" I asked as I hopped off of the curb and climbed on the Tiger, my arms quickly finding David's waist.

The other boys laughed boisterously. David's reserved snicker did wonderful things to his abs. I suddenly found myself resisting the urge to lift up his tight black t-shirt and run my hands over him. "Don't worry, you'll see," he said, glancing over his shoulder at me.

"You say that a lot," I hissed as he revved his engine and peeled away from the curb. I glanced over my shoulder to see if Max was watching. Even though he was older than me, he was starting to become a friend and I didn't want him to be offended.

It's an understatement to say that I was shocked when I found him still standing at the door, watching, with a triumphant smirk on his face.

David shot off through Santa Carla at what seemed like twice the speed of light. It didn't take us long before we were winding through the forest, back towards the bluff.

"I though you said we were going somewhere," I screamed over the wind. I was suddenly worried that the boys had decided to go some place new without me.

David didn't say anything, he just pushed the Triumph for more speed. The engine snarled like an enraged beast as it rocketed through the trees, missing some of the ominous black trunks by millimeters.

Once we broke out through the trees and onto the clear path, we raced along side the train tracks. I was confused when David skidded to a sideways halt just before the trestle.

"Perfect timing," he whispered, the hint of laughter in his voice. A heartbeat later, he got off of his bike and immediately began walking towards the bridge. I got up when I heard the others coming up behind me.

"What's going on?" I asked, jogging to catch up to David. I looked down—which was the worst thing I could have possibly done—at my feet and had to struggle to hold back a gasp. I hadn't noticed before, but the gorge that the trestle spanned was extremely deep. Fog curled in a thick grey blanket, obscuring the ground, some two-hundred-feet down.

"Felicia wants to know what's going on," he said slowly, his voice even despite the pleased smirk on his face. The others chuckled around me, and I suddenly felt nervous. "What's goin' on, Marko?" David glanced back at Marko before folding hands behind his back.

"I dunno. What's goin' on, Paul?" Marko teased. The boys laughed again at my expense.

"What a minute," Paul crowed, "who wants to know?"

"Flic wants to know," Dwayne teased as he clapped me on the shoulders.

I chuckled dryly, annoyed and anxious, as they laughed instead of answering me. "Very funny," I muttered.

"I think we should let Felicia know what's going on," David smiled as he wrapped an arm around my shoulders.

"Ye-ah," Marko enthused, the word come out as two syllables.

"Marko?" David asked, turning me to face the shorter boy. Marko was straddling two of the ties that made up the floor of the trestle, excitement radiating off of him in waves. He smiled happily at me when our eyes met.

"G'night, Flic," he said, his voice full of laughter as he waved goodbye. "Bombs away!" He yelled before jumping down through the gap he stood over.

I tried to lunge to save him but David held me firmly in place. He chuckled when I looked up at him, horrified. Smiling widely now, David pointed with his free hand for me to turn back to where Marko had just been.

"Bottoms up, man." Paul smiled, snapping his fingers before he, too, fell through the hole. Not a second later, Dwayne sauntered silently over to the gap and jumped down after the other two.

"Come with us, Felicia," David said quietly, giving my shoulder a gentle shake of encouragement.

I was going to tell him that he was out of his mind if he thought I was going to jump off a bridge to my death. But just as I parted my lips he, too, plummeted down through the hole. I was left standing, alone, on top of a train trestle, the only witness to four simultaneous suicides. "This is crazy," I muttered, dazed.

That was when I heard the cheers and shouts coming from under the tracks. Bending down, still totally and utterly in shock, I peered through the hole that my four friends had jumped through. I gasped when I saw all of them danging by their hands beneath the bridge. Paul and Dwayne were even _fighting_, kicking at each others legs to try and make the other boy fall. All four boys exploded into grins when they saw me looking down at them and started hollering my name.

"Felicia Rhys," David bellowed, trying to imitate the sound of a game show host, "come on down!"

"This is insane," I whispered. I watched, wide-eyed, as Marko started to swing back and forth, trying to give Paul a shove in the gut. I was so out of sorts that I didn't realize David had used my last name. In the four days I had known him, I had never once told him what it was.

"Don't be such a baby," Dwayne yelled as he dropped one hand from the bar over his head.

"I'm not a baby," I growled, warring internally between getting up and running away—which would have been the sane thing to do—and swinging down to the bars below. I wanted to prove to them that I was just as rebellious and fearless—albeit stupid—as they were. Hell, I'm a gymnast, after all, and have excellent upper body strength. Hanging shouldn't be hard but, then again, I wasn't usually suspended over a fog-shrouded gorge with the ground more than two-hundred feet away.

"Hurry," David called, smiling up at me, his eyes wild with excitement.

"I'm going to regret this," I muttered before laying down on my stomach and shimmying my torso farther over the gap. "Definitely going to regret this," I sighed before I grabbed onto an empty space on the bar and flipped gracefully off of the bridge tie and through the air. The boys cheered once I was dangling alongside them.

I was right, I _did_ immediately regret it. It wasn't hard to hang there with the others but, when I looked down to see the fog billowing up beneath my feet, ice flooded my stomach. "Oh, God, this is so stupid," I hissed, swinging gently back and forth to keep my arms from tiring.

"Welcome aboard, Flic," Paul screamed before he swung, side to side, by one hand. I watched, terrified, as Dwayne tried to kick his other arm out from above him.

"Fun, huh?" David asked. I tore my attention away from Paul and Dwayne, my eyes finding David's like they were magnets.

"In a suicidal kind of way, sure," I said, trying to keep a firm grip on the iron bar that my life depended on. My hands were getting sweaty from my nerves.

David laughed loudly, swinging gently back and forth like the others, though his eyes never parted from mine. He was so pumped full of adrenaline and excitement that his eyes practically glowed. "Like I said," he grinned, when I heard the not-so-distant bellowing of a train whistle, "perfect timing."

I felt my face fall into a mask of pure terror. My heart raced at a million miles an hour when the train blew its whistle again, this time much closer. Glancing upwards to the bar above me, I tried, futilely, to get a better grip on my lifeline.

"Hold on!" David screamed as the train neared the bridge and rocketed over the tracks only a foot or so over our heads. Although he was screaming at the top of his lungs, his voice was swallowed up in the noise of the train. The trestle shook violently causing my arms to tremble as the vehicle clattered by over our heads. The roar and the noise of the train were absolutely deafening. It was hot, too, and the air was suddenly choked with dust and smoke. I coughed a few times, the action making my arms feel weaker in combination with the constant shaking of the bridge. I looked over, terrified, as the others smiled and screamed with joy.

The train was extremely long and I was beginning to worry that I might not have the strength to hold on. Falling to my death would definitely put a sour note in my plans of living until the ripe age of one-hundred. Glancing nervously up at my arms I watched as they shook violently with the train's passing. My fingers were starting to go numb as the bar vibrated beneath my fingers making it harder still to hold on.

My eyes snapped back to Paul as he let out an ear piercing scream of joy that sounded clearly over the din of the train. Horrified, I watched as he winked at me before _letting go_ of the bar. He fell like a meteorite towards the blanket of fog below us, disappearing quickly beneath its surface. I couldn't stop staring at the place where Paul had vanished.

"Don't be scared, Flic!" Marko hollered, bringing my attention back to up him. I watched, desperate with fear, as he let go with one hand, the train still racing over the bridge. The last thing I saw of him was the wild grin that exploded on his face before he fell into the fog.

Dwayne let go of the bar before I could realize what he was doing. His jubilant scream sent shivers up my spine as he plummeted after Marko.

Ripping my eyes away from the surface of the fog, I stared into David's eyes, pleading for him to stay with me. He smiled widely, his arms shaking tremendously.

"Let go, Felicia!" He shouted over the din of the train. He laughed when I shook my head vigorously.

"You're crazy!" I screamed at him, panicked tears pricking at my eyes. I tried to pull myself up with the train still rocketing by above my head but my arms didn't have the strength.

I saw David grin from the corner of my eye. "You're one of us!" He repeated. I watched, terrified as he let go with one hand, clinging on for dear life with the other. "Do it!" He let out an excited yell before letting go.

"DAVID!" I screamed. Terrified, I watched as plummeted towards the fog, smiling wildly at me before he vanished.

I sobbed dryly, now terribly alone. The final car of the train passed over my head just after David fell and the gorge went deathly silent. I tried again to pull myself up. Normally it wouldn't have been a problem. But because I had been hanging, my body acting as one-hundred-ten pounds of dead weight, from my arms for such a long time my muscles were exhausted. The vibrations of the train had also made my hands fall asleep and my nerves had slicked my palms. I glanced up, alarmed, when I registered that my left hand had started to slip. Grunting with the effort, I tried to grasp more firmly on the bar. I didn't want to fall.

Tears welled in my eyes as I felt my hands begin to slip again. Looking up at the bar, I watched as my other hand, weak from exertion, began to slowly uncurl against my will.

"Come on," I heard Paul holler from far below me.

"Let go! It's safe," Marko jeered after him. His voice was distant though I could still hear the laughter in it.

I looked down between my feet, momentarily forgetting the dilemma my failing grip posed. Where were Marko and Paul? More importantly, how could they possibly still be _alive_? The bottom of the gorge was at least two-hundred feet below the trestle! They had to be dead, they _had_ to be. I was just hearing things…

A loud round of laughter assaulted me from below. "Drop, Flic!" I heard Dwayne call, his voice taunting. "Don't be such a baby!"

More laughter followed from below the fog.

"I'm going crazy," I sobbed quietly, looking back up as my hands reminded me that they were giving out. I grasped, frenzied with terror, as my left hand slipped completely from the bar. I tried to grab back on but my right arm was too tired to pull me back within reach.

"No, I don't want to die," I whimpered, tears spilling down my cheeks, as I watched my remaining fingers unhook themselves, one by one, from the iron bar.

I exhaled sharply as the sensation of falling overtook me, my eyes popping wide with fear before I crammed them shut. The last thing I wanted to see was the earth rushing closer. The wind whistled past my ears in a deafening roar. I sucked in a deep breath—my last breath—waiting for the ground to find me.

And then everything stopped. The air quit screaming in my ears. Gravity no longer pulled me towards the ground. Prying my eyes open, I looked around.

I was floating.

A few short, hysteric bursts of laughter escaped my chest as I realized what was happening. But how was it possible?

And so I hung there, deifying the laws of physics, for a good ten seconds before gravity took hold of my body again. I was ripped through the air with such force that it felt as if I was being yanked towards the ground by my navel. The pull was so tremendous, in fact, that the air was knocked from my lungs.

I fell for what felt like forever before I landed, colliding with something that gave way—and I use the term lightly—to my weight. A force that felt like two iron girders crashed into my back, kick-starting my lungs and slamming my head backwards. Cold air whistled down my throat, burning fiercely in my chest. I tried to open my eyes but they wouldn't do what I wanted. I couldn't feel myself anymore.

"You're almost there," I heard the sweet purr of David's voice whisper through the blackness that swiftly bloomed across my brain. Maybe I was dreaming. If this was what it felt like to die, it wasn't so bad. At least it wasn't too painful. And hearing David's voice one last time wasn't a bad thing, either.

And then I slipped, limp against what I was sure were girders, into unconsciousness for second time in four days.


	7. Chapter 7

**_Author's Notes:_**

_Again, a fond hello!_

_I just wanted to say a quick 'thank you' to everyone who's posted a review on Second Chance. It's immensely nice to hear that other people enjoy reading this story as much as I do writing it!_

_I'm currently reviewing chapter eight so it should be up soon._

_Enjoy installment No. Seven. :)_

_Sincerely,_

_Amaryllidinae_

* * *

**Seven**

"NO!" I SCREAMED, FLYING into a sitting position, my hands braced out beside me to try and stop the ground from approaching.

No collision came. Yanking my eyes open, I glanced frantically around. My breathing was coming in ragged, terrified gasps and my hands trembled as they clung onto the covers beneath me. Confused, I let out a whimper as reality hit me. I was back at the boy's underground hotel, safely in bed.

"Sheesh, you're loud," I heard David laugh from my left. I spun quickly in the direction of his voice. He was lounging comfortably across another section of pillows, toying with the piercing that dangled from his left earlobe.

I stared at him, my brow furrowed, trying to work out what was going on. I should be dead. I had fallen from the trestle. I had hit the ground. People die when they fall from two-hundred feet in the air.

"Can you talk?" He teased as my mind tried to work out the inconsistency of how I was still alive. When I didn't answer, he chuckled to himself before kicking off his boots. I watched as they flew artfully through the air and landed a foot or two from the end of the mattress.

I took two very deep breaths to try and calm my speeding heart. "Yes, of course I can," I snapped as I pulled my hair out of my face. Gathering it into a sloppy ponytail, I ran my hands over my face to try and work out the frown that had settled there.

"Good," David chuckled, folding his arms behind his back, the defined muscles of his limbs flexing attractively.

_Oh__, __Good God_, I sighed internally, fighting the blush that threatened to come to my cheeks,_ he's not wearing his jackets_. Casting my eyes past David, I saw that his leather duster and wool jacket were folded carefully a few feet away from him. I exhaled slowly, trying to give myself something else to focus on besides the pale perfection of David's arms.

"You calm now?" He said quietly, his voice full of a smile. I didn't check; I couldn't risk looking at him. "I thought you were going to sleep all night."

"Well I can understand why," I grumbled, burying my face in my hands. "How am I still alive?" I muttered around my palms.

"Does it matter?" David asked quietly. I peek over my fingers at him. His head was inclined towards me, his usual half-smirk in place on his lips.

"Well it would be nice to know," I sighed. "It's not usual that you fall to your death only to wake up perfectly fine the next evening." I had slept all day again. It was after sunset and several small fires were glowing around the cavern. The moonlight glittered beautifully off of the mobiles that hung from the ceiling, casting a rainbow of colours on the floor.

David gave a small shrug—which did incredible things to his muscles—before turning his head away. He stared up at the canopy, a thoughtful expression on his face.

Ugh, I'm hopeless.

I collapsed back onto the bed with a huff, my hands worrying my temples. I was too full of energy. It wasn't right. I should be absolutely exhausted, not to mention agitated. I should be screaming at David for almost getting me killed but I couldn't feel right. The only thing I could manage was to feel awkward. "Where are the guys?" I asked finally, inclining my head slightly in David's direction. I desperately hoped that they were close by. The thought of being alone with David made me feel nervous in strange ways.

"Out," he smiled, twisting onto his side and resting his head in his hand. His eyes glittered mischievously in the flickering light of the fires. I couldn't help but turn to mimic David's posture; it was a much better position to ogle him by. Trying not to was pointless. "They got tired of waiting around for you."

"So what are _you_ doing here, then?" I asked, incredulous practically written on my face. His laughing response sent waves of butterflies through my stomach.

"I didn't want you to do something stupid."

"Gee, thanks," I said sarcastically, rolling my eyes for effect. "Your faith in me is so overwhelming; I just might cry…"

David laughed again and pushed himself into a sitting position to better look into my eyes. His perfect hair was slightly mussed like he had been laying down for a long time.

"Too much sarcasm?" I asked as I rolled onto my stomach. I kicked my legs back and forth slowly through the air as I smiled over at him. I couldn't help but notice how David's shirt pulled tightly against the perfect muscles of his chest and abs.

… So pathetic.

"Just a little," he whispered, smirking wryly. "But _I'm_ not the one who keeps passing out."

"Well I'm not trying to kill you," I argued playfully.

"You're not dead yet," David chuckled. His voice was light but it didn't match the hardness of his eyes.

"Third time's a charm," I sang, examining my nails to hide my smile. They were another millimeter longer tonight, much to my dismay.

David must have noticed the slight frown that settled onto my brow because he crossed the gap between us, pulling himself close to me. "Something bugging you?"

"Nah," I breathed, slicking the nail of my left index finger between my teeth. I bit down on it, hard, expecting the nail to tear. It didn't.

Bringing my finger close to my eyes, I examined my nail closely. There should have—at the very least—been a dent in the hard matte surface. But, instead, it looked just as perfect as it had before. Sticking my nail obstinately back into my mouth I tried to bite it off again with even less success. My nail felt like rock between my teeth, hard and inflexible.

"What are you doing?" David asked slowly, placing a gloved finger under my chin and inclining my head towards his. The lightness of his touch sent unfamiliar shivers down my spine.

"I have talons," I grumbled, pulling away from his hand. Sitting myself upright, I curled my hands into claws for David to see before I frowned at them myself. "I won't be able to play the guitar anymore."

"Too bad," he laughed before grabbing my left hand. He immediately flipped it over, palm up, and ran his fingers over a large scar that spanned the breadth of my skin. "How'd you get this?"

Dropping my other hand into my lap, I shrugged. "That's only a year old," I explained, watching his eyes as they flicked from my hand, up my arm to my face and back to my hand. "I was changing a tire after my friend, Sean, spun out in the snow on the highway and punctured it on a fence post. It was winter break from university and we were going to visit some of our other friends who live down in Cal—" I clamped my mouth shut, horrified, mid sentence.

"Cal-where?" David asked playfully, not looking up from my hand.

"Er," I stalled. I couldn't tell David that I had been going to Calgary. That would give away where I came from and that was the last thing I wanted him to know. He probably didn't even know where Calgary was, regardless, but I didn't want to give him any ammunition to take to a map.

I fidgeted nervously, biting my lip as I thought. The only city that would come to mind that started with C-a-l was 'Calexico', another city in California. That, of course, did me no good because it never snows in California. I grimaced when David looked up at me, his eyes dancing with laughter. He knew he had me caught.

"Um, well, anyways," I rushed, left with ignoring his question as the only option that didn't make me look like a moron, "it was cold and I didn't have gloves on so when I dropped the hubcap it sliced my hand open. Sean couldn't find his way around a car if all the parts were labeled and Rachel's too prissy to get her hands dirty. I'm the only one out of the three of us who has any mechanical inclinations so, naturally, I get beat up a lot because of their stupidity." I was rambling now, unsuccessfully trying to get off-topic.

"Cal-where?" David repeated, holding my hand firmly between his when I tried to pull it back to the safety of my lap. It was like my hand was stuck in a vice that was bolted to the floor.

"Does it matter?" I growled, yanking harder against his grip. I didn't gain an inch.

One easy tug on my arm was all it took for David to send me reeling towards him. He stopped me from falling into his chest when I was only a few inches away from his face. "I wouldn't ask if it wasn't," he whispered. Cocking his head to the side he examined me, his eyes lingering on my lips, my nose and my cheeks. "You're blushing," he smirked, pleased.

I felt blood flood faster into my face turning it a wonderful shade of crimson. "Let go of me, you ass," I hissed, finally managing to wrench my hand away. Before I really knew what I was doing, I grabbed one of the many pillows beside me and beamed David across the head with it.

"What was that for?" He growled, making a poor effort to keep from smiling.

Sticking my tongue out at him, I backed away and threw another pillow square into his face. "The first one was for asking too many questions," I sniffed haughtily, taking a third purple silk pillow as a shield. "The second one was because you're you." Cowering behind the soft barrier, I took a few deep breaths to try and drain the heat from my cheeks. It didn't help.

David went silent as I tried to steady myself. I made the mistake of peeking over my pillow-shield to see what he was up to. Before I could hide again, a large pink square collided with my head.

"What was that for?" I barked, ducking back behind the soft purple rectangle in my hands.

"For throwing something at me," David grunted before he launched another soft square over my shield, bouncing it off the top of my head. "And that one was for not answering my question."

I lowered the pillow in front of my face slowly, ready to bring it back up the instant David tried to throw something else at me. When I saw that his hands were empty, I put the silk rectangle in my lap. No sense in throwing away a perfectly good shield. "You never answer anything I ask," I said pointedly. "I've already told you more about me than you should know."

David scoffed, casting his eyes towards the ceiling, before he relaxed back on his arms. "So you're keeping secrets, huh?"

"And you're not?"

"'Course I am."

"Well, then how can you expect me to tell you every little detail about my life when you won't even tell me why you bother to wear gloves all the time?"

David's eyes were sad when he looked back to me. My heart immediately hurt for him. "Point taken," he brooded.

"I'm not going back to Cal-wherever," I said, my voice quiet. The pain stabbing in my chest disappeared, butterflies taking wing to fill the void, with David's answering smile.

"Then I don't care where Cal-wherever is above."

"And I don't care why you wear gloves," I lied.

A moment of thoughtful silence passed between us, the only sound in the cavern the gentle rushing of the wind and the crackling of burning wood. There were so many questions I wanted to ask David. Some of them were serious things like where his family was and how he had met Paul, Dwayne and Marko. Others were more inquisitive, like what his favourite foods were and what kind of music he liked. I had to bite my tongue to keep the tide of my curiosity from flooding out.

I watched quietly as David played with the tassels on one of the blankets beneath us. His brow was furrowed with the severity of his thoughts, making his handsome face look hundreds of years old.

"What's wrong?" I eventually managed timidly.

His face softened when he glanced up at me though his eyes were still far away and cold. "Nothing, just thinking."

"I got that much," I smiled.

"You're not as stupid as you look," he smiled though it didn't reach his eyes.

Guilt cracked through me like a whip as David reminded me of I had lashed out at him three nights ago. "You know I didn't mean that," I muttered, casting my eyes down to my lap.

"Is that an apology?"

"Maybe," I whispered, glancing up at him through my lashes, "if you want it to be."

"You're so funny," David snickered, laughter finally returning to his eyes. "One minute you're angry and throwing things at me, the next you're begging for forgiveness."

"I'm not begging you for anything," I grumbled, glaring at him.

"I just don't get you," he sighed, tossing another pillow into my face.

Reacting much too slow, I raised the purple pillow at my knee to protect myself _after_ the orange square collided with my nose. "That makes two of us," I said.

"Take that away from your face," David grumbled sternly, tugging on my arm.

"If you promise not to throw anything at me," I said cautiously, staving him off with my hand. I let my grip relax on the pillow and David took it, throwing it away.

We sat, staring at each other for a long while.

Eventually, I let my curiosity get the better of me. Reaching out, slowly, I touched the piercing hanging from David's left ear. "You all have one of these," I mused, running my fingers gently over the beads and lingering on the feather at the bottom.

"It's just group thing," he smiled. "You're one to talk, you know." He delicately brushed away my hair to reveal my right ear before tracing it from my helix piercing to the bottom of my lobe.

"A 'group thing'?" I asked sarcastically. "What are you guys, some kind of gang?"

"People around Santa Carla call us the Lost Boys," he smirked, struggling to hold back a laugh when I arched an eyebrow at him.

"My first week in a new town and I fall in with thugs," I drawled, dropping my hand back to my lap.

"We're not thugs," he laughed, relaxing back on his arms again. I let my eyes flicker down to his stunning abs before I gave him a disbelieving stare.

Yup, still pathetic.

"I find that hard to believe."

David's eyes sparkled playfully as he leaned closer to me. "Why?"

"Well for starters," I said, unconsciously leaning towards his face, "Max won't let you in his store."

"You mean that tool from the VideoMax?" he laughed.

"Yeah, him," I frowned. "And he's not a tool."

"Oh really?"

"Yeah, really. He's a really nice guy, unlike _some people_," I said pointedly.

"I can be a nice," David argued.

"Yeah. Right. I'd like to see that," I smiled.

"Would you?" he whispered, his eyes soft and expectant.

"I fell right into that one," I blushed. I wanted desperately to look away from him but I couldn't tear my eyes from his. My heart galloped at a frantic speed when David leaned close enough so I could smell the musky-sweet fragrance of his skin.

"You're blushing again," he teased, picking up a lock of my hair and raising it to his nose. I could see him grinning around his hand. Butterflies filled my stomach as David closed his eyes and inhaled deeply.

I chewed on my lip and tried to breathe evenly. "Well, you're kinda close to me," I pointed out stupidly. God, I'm such a moron.

"If that's a problem…" he smiled, trailing off and twirling my hair in his fingers. He must have liked the smell because he took another deep breath in through his nose.

"No," I said much to quickly. Embarrassment flamed in my chest, deepening the light pink that graced my cheeks. "I mean, no it's not."

"Good." Heat flashed over my skin when he reached to tuck my hair behind my ear and the exposed flesh of his wrist grazed my cheek. I shouldn't be feeling these things! David was definitely not the type of man that I wanted to get involved with. Though, for the moment, I couldn't remember why…

Without thinking about it, I reached out and stroked my finger along David's jaw. The light blonde scruff that peppered his skin tickled slightly in a nice way. My finger was tingling by the time I reached his chin. Tendrils of electricity shot up my arm when I reached towards his lips; they felt soft and smooth under the pressure of my touch. I was surprised to feel his breath coming in deep gasps as if he was feeling just like I did: nervously excited.

"I'm sorry," I muttered, yanking my hand away like I had been burned. "I don't know what came over me." I tried to shuffle away but David reached out, holding me close.

"I'm not," he whispered, his voice slightly husky. Reaching up, he went to touch my lips but I stopped him. Taking his right hand in mine I slowly began to pull off his glove, gauging his feelings with quick glances up to his eyes.

At first David was nervous. I felt the muscles in his arm stiffen defensively so I looked up at him. Conflict warred in his eyes: he wasn't sure he wanted me to continue but he also didn't want me to stop. I slowed down to try and relax him, tugging on each of his fingers until the leather pulled free of his hand. David relaxed slightly as I dragged the protective sheath from his skin and cast it aside.

His hands were flawless and just as pale as the rest of him. Running my fingers over the back of David's hand I slowly turned his palm upwards and traced the folds of his skin with my pinky, mimicking what he had done to me the other day.

"Do you mind?" I asked quietly. I peered up cautiously at David when he hesitated, pausing to wait patiently for an answer. He never responded so I swung myself next to him, nestling into his left side as I placed his bare hand on my knee. Taking up the other, I pulled the glove off of that one, too, and examined the top of his hand. David's skin was as smooth as satin. As I traced the contours of his fingers I noticed how long his nails were. They were as long as, if not longer, than mine.

"Your nails are long," I said slyly, reversing his observations from the other night.

David smiled when I peered up at him. "I've noticed."

"We match," I whispered tenderly as I placed my hand on top of his. David's hand was much larger than mine but our skin was almost exactly the same colour—cream on cream—and felt like a flame under my palm.

"You're trembling," David whispered, his voice full of a smile. I glanced over to tell him off, not realizing how close I had gotten to him. Our faces were mere inches apart. If I turned my head slightly more to the right our noses would have touched.

"Am I?" I said absently, unable to concentrate on anything other than the feel of David's breath on my face. I swallowed hard, my heart fluttering nervously.

"You said there was one more reason why the Boys and I are 'thugs'," he asked quietly, seeming to fight against closing the distance between us. "What was it?"

I took a deep breath to try and clear my head. For a moment, I couldn't remember what I had been talking about. "Well, there are actually two other reasons," I whispered, focusing on David's lips rather than his eyes.

"What are they?" he chuckled, the sound rough.

Feeling him laugh so close to me sent tiny shivers down into my stomach. The pleasant vibrations chased the butterflies away, replacing them with a smoldering—albeit silly—yearning to kiss him.

"Well, firstly," I smiled, "you managed to get yourselves banned from the boardwalk." David laughed again intensifying the fire that burned within me. "And, secondly," I whispered softly, bringing my face close still to his, "you've managed to seduce a poor lost girl without her knowing it."

And then David kissed me.

He closed the tiny space between us with such ferocity that I thought I might fall backwards under him. Surprisingly enough, as his lips crushed against mine, I managed to hold my own, wrapping my arms around David's waist to keep him close. His lips were soft and warm as they whispered against mine in feverish kisses that set my body alight with electricity.

David's hands wound their way under my shirt and up my back. The pressure on my muscles made me sigh around his lips. Before I knew what I was doing I had pulled myself into his lap, my legs secured tightly over his hips. A low moan escaped David's throat as I wound my fingers over the hem of his shirt and started shimmying it up over his shoulders.

All of my guesses, assumptions and hormone-fueled-thoughts hadn't done David's body justice. His chest and stomach were perfectly formed, the muscles defined but smooth under the flawless cream of his skin. I think I gasped when I saw him partially undressed before me but I couldn't be sure. David pressed his nails gently into the flesh of my back, pulling me back to him, just as I went to run my hands over him.

Twisting my hands up over his perfectly sculpted shoulders, I entwined my fingers in his white-blonde hair. The texture was sensational! The feel of David's hair between my fingers was like a cross between cashmere and pony hair—each strand was soft under my touch but held its own under the pressure. And, oh! The smell! It was woody, floral and spicy all rolled into one intoxicating fragrance.

I had been so lost in the smell of David's hair that I hadn't noticed when he unclasped my bra. Pushing me reluctantly away, he yanked my clothes over my head in one swift movement and cast them aside. The momentary absence of his touch made the return of his body against mine even sweeter. Goosebumps rose across my skin even though I felt like I was on fire.

Detaching one hand from the small of my back, David unhooked my legs from his hips and shifted to my side. Sliding his occupied hand up to my neck, he gently lay me backwards onto the pillows and carefully positioned himself over me. Our lips never once broke contact.

The weight of his body atop mine sent my heart racing with desire. I had never wanted anyone so much in all of my life, not even the boyfriend I had gotten involved with for three years when I was sixteen. After that cheating scumbag, Garret, left me, I swore I would never give myself to another man. David was a clear exception to that rule.

Sliding his hand out from under my neck, David traced a gentle path over my stomach down to my jeans. I mimicked him instantly, my fingers racing quickly from his hair to the button on his pants. Breaking apart for mere seconds in a flurry of panting gasps, we collided back into each other like a magnetic force was pulling us together.

Our bodies fit together like pieces of the world's most exquisite puzzle.


	8. Chapter 8

**Eight**

DAVID WAS GONE WHEN I woke up the next evening.

My eyes fluttered open just before sunset though I immediately wished that they hadn't. The late-day sunlight hurt my eyes tremendously, like someone had suddenly switched on an impossibly bright light after leaving me in a pitch-black room for days. Squinting—though my eyes might have well been closed completely for what good it did me—I ducked my head under the blankets to give them time to adjust.

It was sad to admit it but last night had been one of the best nights of my life. It rated right up there with the day that my dad had given me my first motorcycle and when I bought Sabbath. David and I had spent the whole night together and even though there really hadn't been much time for talking—we were too busy with each other—I had really enjoyed myself. Well, for obvious reasons, yeah, but I had also enjoyed just being alone with David. I mean, I hadn't exactly _planned_ on going all the way with him—simply talking would have been good, too—but I didn't regret it in the slightest. Well, not yet anyway. He wasn't really the 'bring home to mom' type of guy but, eventually, I might make an exception. Maybe.

Rolling onto my side, I traced patterns on the mattress. The bright light in the cavern, though muted by the blanket over my head, was still less than bearable. Serves me right for becoming nocturnal. Not that staying up all night didn't have its advantages, but eventually, I was going to have to try and turn myself back around. That was going to be terrible and a little sad.

I had no idea what to expect once the summer ended but, no matter what was going to happen, I wasn't looking forward to it. Even the thought of having my time with David and the other 'Lost Boys'—no matter how often I say that, I laugh every time— limited to the weekends was depressing. They were, sad enough as it sounds, the best part of my day—or night, if you want to be technical about it. Sure, they were all practically crazy—I mean they jumped off of bridges for fun. Or did they? I mean, don't people who jump off of bridges usually, I don't know, _die_ once they hit the ground? Maybe that whole train trestle ordeal had just been a very vivid dream. How else could I explain it? I was obviously still alive and so was David.

I felt a light blush come to my face as I thought back again to the previous night. David and I had spent hours hopelessly… what's the right word? 'Absorbed'—… _absorbed_, sure. Why not?—in each other. It was really nice to have him to myself for a change, free of his need to impress Marko, Paul and Dwayne. I had seen the more tender side of him, one that was playful and kind and didn't feel the need to relentlessly poke fun at me. Needless to say, I liked it.

Thinking of how close David had been to me only a short while ago made his absence more hurtful. A few hours before sunrise, I had fallen asleep across him. The smell of his skin and the gentle rise and fall of his chest beneath me was soothing. Even though I couldn't quite call him 'mine', laying there had felt incredibly_ right_. I didn't like it, but I had to admit to myself that I had been infatuated with David since the first moment I saw him. The way he made me feel whenever he came near—nervously excited, like someone was tickling the bottom of my stomach—was a clear indication that I had feelings for him. Not to mention that it made my heart ache whenever he seemed sad or upset. I would give anything to take his pain for myself, to keep him from ever having to feel hurt. It was totally irrational to feel these kinds of things about a man I hardly knew but I couldn't deny it any longer. Last night had proven something to me: I loved David.

… Gosh, that sounds stupid.

And, as the man I irrationally loved repeatedly smoothed his bare hands over my hair as I dozed off, I couldn't also help but feel that he thought that way too. Well I _fancied _that he thought that, anyway. It was like the hours we spent together had helped David prove something to himself, too, and he had liked what he found.

I had expected, by this time, that my eyes would have adjusted to the brightness of the sunlight. They hadn't—of course—so I gave up on waiting. Pulling the covers off of my head, I gave a cursory check around the cavern to make sure that no one else was around. Wrapping my blanket around myself in a make-shift toga, I climbed off of the mattress shielding my eyes with my free hand. It took a little bit of searching, but I finally found all the pieces of my clothes.

Draping my blanket-toga over my shoulders, I pulled my clothes on as quickly as I could. The last thing I wanted was to be caught with my pants down—literally. Once dressed, I threw the blanket back onto the alter of my deviant escapades and began to hunt around for my other things. It had been a few days since I had bathed and I definitely needed to freshen up after last night.

As I rooted around on the floor, hand still protectively hovering over my eyes, I noticed the sheer volume of _stuff _the boys had. There was at least two of everything a teenager could want hidden away in every nook and cranny. I stumbled on at least three boxes full of comic books, two baseballs and another ghetto blaster before I found four pairs of sunglasses. I palmed a pair of silver and black aviators, shoving them onto my face before I continued searching for what I was really after. The glasses made my eyes stop hurting immediately, much to my relief. Now with two hands to put to my cause, I continued to search. Eventually, I found my things stowed away neatly in a back corner next to the guitar that I had been playing three nights ago.

Shoving my soap, shampoo, toothbrush and toothpaste into the pockets of my jacket I left for outside. There was no point in waiting around for the others to show up because I didn't want them to know where I was going. I wanted to avoid a repeat of my little 'misadventure' on the beach if I could help it.

Once I was outside of the cavern, ascending the stairs back to the top of the bluff, I was glad I had found the abandoned aviators. The sun was a furious orange ball that was hanging low in the sky that, along with stinging my eyes, made my body feel weak. I supposed it was just the heat—and it was very hot out—and kept going. I had a very long walk ahead of me and no time to waist on sitting to rest.

It was almost two hours later that I finally crossed the borders of Santa Carla. I would have arrived sooner but I had plodded along at a sluggish pace despite my attempts to go faster; the heat was _really_ exhausting. By the time I made it into town, the sun had disappeared beneath the horizon so I took of my sunglasses and perched them atop my head. As soon as twilight hit I felt invigorated and subconsciously picked up my pace.

I walked through the streets of Santa Carla, a light spring in my step, and made my way towards the VideoMax. I had nothing better to do while I waited for the beach and the boardwalk to empty. Talking was an easy way to pass the time and I also felt a little bad about what David had said last night. Sure, Max was older and kind of geeky—I mean, come on, the man wore jackets that looked like they had shoulder pads in them—but he was really nice. The way he smiled whenever I came in to visit also made me feel nice, like I was missed by someone.

So, needless to say, I was a little disappointed when I entered the video store and Max was nowhere to be seen.

"Are you looking for something?" the pretty black girl behind the counter asked as I made a quick circuit around the store.

I felt my face turning into a frown. "Yeah, but he's not here yet."

"Oh, you mean Max?" she asked, laughing.

I smiled awkwardly, embarrassed that she knew I was looking to talk to a man twice my age. "Yeah, I just wanted to say hi."

"He'll be back in about fifteen minutes," she smiled. "He just stepped out to pick up something from the post office."

"Oh," I chirped, my mood improving instantly, "that's great. Mind if I wait around for him to get back?"

"Yeah, sure," she said, motioning with her arm to the empty store. "It's not busy so take as much time as you like."

"Awesome," I sighed, walking over to look through the candy that was stacked in front of the counter. I hadn't eaten anything at all in almost a week and I was starting to get worried about myself. I didn't feel hungry like I should have been and that made me anxious. Maybe eating something anyway was the best thing to do, even though the mere _thought_ of eating made me feel disgusted.

There were lots of chocolate bars and hard candies that I knew of, like Air Heads and Nestle, and some that I had never seen. Picking up a package of Atomic Fireballs, I examined the package.

"So, have you known Max long?" the clerk asked, leaning over to watch me peruse the shelves.

"No," I muttered, putting the jawbreakers back. "We just met a little while ago."

"How?" she asked quietly. Obviously she was someone who liked to gossip. I resisted the urge to roll my eyes.

"He, uh, gave me a hand," I said slowly, debating with minimal enthusiasm between a milk chocolate bar and one with peanuts. The pure chocolate seemed like the less disgusting of all the choices so I placed it on the counter. "I'm new here," I said as I dug around in my pockets for my leftover change. Placing all four dollars and twelve cents on the counter I pushed my intended purchase towards the girl.

"Oh," the clerk said absently, taking a dollar fifty from my cash and ringing the chocolate bar through the till. "Why did you move here?"

"A change of scenery," I muttered, scooping my remaining two-sixty-two back into my pocket. I twirled the chocolate bar around on the counter, dreading picking it up to eat it.

"Did you move by yourself?" she asked, leaning her head on her hand. The clerk was a pretty girl, tall and very slim. Her skin was a light shade of mocha and her hair was cropped in a short spike-y do that framed her round face.

I nodded my head slowly, still twirling the chocolate bar around with my index finger. "Yeah, I did. My parents, uh, decided to move up north and I didn't want to leave the States so I came out here."

"Oh, that's exciting!" she whispered, curiosity burning in her dark brown eyes. "Where are you living?"

"With some friends," I said, picking up the chocolate bar and staring reluctantly down at the wrapper. I toyed with the corner of the plastic debating whether I should just ask for my money back; I didn't want to eat anything at all. "I'm just sleeping on the couch until I can get a place of my own."

"That's _so_ cool," the clerk sighed. "I wish I could move out of my parents house. Living on your own must be rad."

"Oh yeah," I scoffed sarcastically though she didn't seem to catch the disgust in my voice. "It's great to be alone."

"So what's your name?" the clerk asked pleasantly.

"Felicia," I said unenthusiastically. I shook her hand when she held it out to me.

"I'm Erin," she beamed.

"Nice to meet you. Would you like some chocolate?" I asked encouragingly, holding the bar out to her. I really hoped she did; that would mean less for me to force down. The thought of just putting the chocolate in my mouth made me feel like I was being told to eat dirt.

"Sure," she smiled, gently taking the bar from me. Her fingers quickly pulled apart the wrapping exposing the light brown sweet within. Breaking off a fair chunk, she handed the rest back to me. "Thanks."

"No problem," I muttered, looking down at the open candy. Sucking in a deep breath, I tried to prepare myself to eat a small piece of the chocolate. Breaking off the most miniscule of portions, I raised the food to my lips.

I had to forcefully resist throwing up.

The smell was absolutely nauseating! My stomach twisted painfully, as if someone had grabbed hold of my innards and crushed them in a vice that was lined with rusty nails. I vaguely heard the chocolate bar clatter to the glass counter top before a loud roaring filled my ears. It took me a second to figure it out, but the roaring was actually the sound of my heart trying to escape from my chest. Using all of my strength to keep from crying out in anguish, I curled further in on myself which only made the pain worse.

The only thing I could think of that could have caused this was the chocolate which I was inadvertently crushing in my hand. Tossing the food away from me I leaned on the counter for balance, gasping; the clean air made the pain pass almost as quickly as it came. Even though I felt fine again I remained hunched over the counter top my hands clenched into tight fists, knuckles white.

"Are you alright?" Erin panicked, her hands fluttering nervously around me without making contact.

"Yeah," I exhaled, straightening back up. I blinked a few times, unsure about what had just happened. I brushed my fingers lightly over the mangled chocolate bar that had fallen from my hand to the counter. It seemed impossible that such an unassuming object could have caused such a reaction in me. I usually love chocolate.

I looked up at Erin, trying to reassure her with a smile. It didn't work. "You look pale," she observed, worry creasing the space between her eyebrows.

"I'm always pale," I tried to joke, picking the remaining half of the offensive chocolate bar up and holding it out to Erin. "You can have the rest of this if you like."

Erin eyed me cautiously. "… But you haven't had any."

I held the chocolate farther away from myself. "I've decided I really don't want it."

She pretended to think about it for a second, though I could tell she had already made up her mind. "Well, okay, if you're sure. Thanks."

I had never been so happy to give away a perfectly good piece of chocolate in all my life. "No problem," I muttered, watching as Erin pulled the remaining half of the sweet from the wrapper. Another crippling wave of agony rocked through me when she broke the brown brick in half again.

Clutching one arm around my gut, I doubled over as my heart raced away without me. Miraculously, I managed to keep myself from falling to the floor when my knees gave out. My free hand slammed into the counter top with such force that the glass buckled and cracked under my fingers, slicing through my flesh like razors.

"Goddamnit," I hissed through my teeth, my jaws clenched together from the pain raging in my gut. Tendrils of pure agony were running like vitriol through my veins, spreading their joy through my whole body. My shoulders and legs were alive with pain now and my face was beginning to throb.

"Oh, God," I heard Erin cry, the candy in her hands clattering noisily to the ground. It took her a moment but, eventually, she rushed around the counter and to my side. "I'm going to call for some help. You need to go to the hospital!"

"NO!" I roared as every last part of me exploded in fireworks of the most unimaginable pain. As ridiculous as it sounds, even my _gums_ hurt—it felt like someone was slicing through them with a knife. Pushing Erin's worrying hands away I righted myself, my hand still clutched to my stomach.

"But you're bleeding!" she all but shrieked, pointing wildly to my hand when I stared at her.

Looking down at my right hand I saw how badly the glass counter had mangled my fingers. A thick ribbon of crimson flowed from four of my five digits making abstract patterns across my palm. Bewildered, I clenched a fist. The blood streamed more quickly across my pallid skin. "I'll be fine," I lied, grunting and doubling over as I spoke.

"Don't be stupid!" Erin rushed, placing her hands on my shoulders to try and steer me away from the exit. "You're going to the hospital."

The simple action of Erin coming close to me, touching me, was all it took to chase the pain that crippled me away. Adrenaline pumped quickly through me, swiftly filling the absence the pain left in its wake.

Erin smelled impossibly delicious. The gentle touch of her hands sent cravings of hunger mixed with desire through me like the chocolate bar from earlier should have. She was sweet and salty rolled into once deliciously warm, mocha-coloured package and she was _within grabbing distance_. All I had to do was reach over and wrap my arm around her shoulder, pretending like I needed help to walk. It would be easy, then, to snap her neck and nestle my mouth against the flesh, exposing the sweet liquid below.

Horror is a very sobering thing. Ice flooded my veins as the last of my thoughts echoed in my head. Locking down every muscle in my body, I froze mid-stride. I had just seriously considered ripping out Erin's throat and _drinking her blood_. What on earth was wrong with me? "I have to go," I growled. I tried to shove her hands away but just touching her warm skin made my body ripple with waves of desire to pull her close.

"I said you're not going anywhere," Erin hissed, pulling me a few steps farther into the store. "You're sick!"

"I know," I moaned, fighting against her hands, my resolve to flee weakening rapidly. "That's why I have to go." Ripping myself away from Erin, I bolted blindly towards the exit of the VideoMax and slammed into something soft, something that wasn't the door.

"What's the rush?" Max laughed. His face fell into a mask of concern mixed with shocked when I glanced up at him, wild-eyed and frantic.

"I have to go," I repeating stiffly before shoving past him and running away down the street. I was too busy trying to flee that I didn't notice when the bell over the door never chimed behind me.

"Wait!" I heard Max call from the distance, his voice strained.

"I have to go," I yelled again more to myself than anyone else. I made the mistake of glancing over my shoulder. Max was chasing me and doing a frustratingly good job of keeping up.

"Stop!" he called, reaching out like it would somehow make me slow down.

Nearing on frenzied, I pushed myself harder. "Stop following me," I hissed before dodging around a group alarmed-looking of teenagers. Max was relentless, not to mention fast; he was gaining on me.

"I can help you," I heard him pant, closer to me than before. "Just slow down and let me explain!"

"Leave me alone," I growled, hoping nimbly over a concrete barrier at the edge of a parking lot. Ripping across the tarmac, I weaved in and out of the cars trying to shake my unwanted pursuer. I glanced over my shoulder before pivoting around the back end of a truck: Max had slowed down significantly to maneuver his way over the barrier I had so lithely vaulted. "Finally," I grunted before placing a wider gap between Max and myself.

I ran without looking back for a good five minutes, slowing down only once I was clearly outside of Santa Carla. Instead of homes I was now surrounded by a few trees, many of them dead or dying, and miles of grass that had been dried in the baking Californian sun. Max had stopped following me a long time ago which was excellent. I could finally stop to catch my breath. Collapsing on the dry ground, I lay very still until I stopped gasping.

It was very calm and beautiful out here in the middle of nowhere. There was a slight breeze wafting through the grass that made the brittle stalks rattle gently against each other. The sky was also very clear. Thousands of stars dotted the deep blue blanket above me, tiny pinpricks in an endless dark sea. The moon, a large and magnificent disk at the edge of the horizon, bleached the world into monochrome; everything seemed all the more spectacular because of it.

It was easy to think here, easy to pick apart the blur of what had happened at the VideoMax. I could clearly remember all of the confusing feelings that had overwhelmed me—the pain and agony as well as the intense desire, not to mention the resulting horror and confusion. Hell, I was still confused!

"I wanted to rip out her throat," I muttered to myself, thinking about the clerk, Erin. Mashing the heels of my hands into my eyes, I gave them a good rub as if it would help make sense of my thoughts. How could I, a completely—alright, _semi_—rational person go from writhing in agony on the floor of a video store to wanting to rip out another person's throat and _drink their blood_? I was normal, after all.

Or was I?

Maybe this was what Melany had meant when she said I had an interesting future ahead of me. Being crazy was definitely something different, though I wouldn't really call it 'interesting'. It was more like a 'damn shame' if I was going to be honest.

Crazy. That was a new way to look at things. Maybe everything that had happened to me—time travel, falling from beneath a bridge only to wake up the next day and my latest misadventure at the VideoMax—were all just parts of a psychotic break? It could just be a paranoid delusion. That wasn't out of the realm of possibility. Being crazy was also a simpler explanation than time travel and the simplest solution to a problem is usually the correct one, after all.

Doubt scratched heavily at the back of my mind as I considered this. Although it would have been much easier to believe that I was insane I couldn't. Something inside of me—that annoying little voice of my intuition—told me that I wasn't fooling anyone, especially not myself. I was forcing myself into denial if I tried to believe that I would, eventually, wake up back at home in Canada in the throws of a mental breakdown.

The more I thought on it, the sillier it sounded. My family had no history of diagnosed mental illness, even though Joan insisted, right up until the day he died, that my grandpa was loopy. Sure he was a little _unorthodox_ at times and had his fair share of silly moments but he wasn't crazy. He had possessed one of the most enthralling and quick minds I had ever had the pleasure of knowing. Such a wonderful brain couldn't possibly have been crazy.

Rolling onto my side, I twirled my fingers through the grass as it swayed just over my head. Even though it was late at night now, the barely-alive plant was still warm to my touch.

So, I was back to square one again. I couldn't truly convince myself that I was crazy. The phrase 'stuck between a rock and a hard place' never sounded more true. Well, if it was true that I had gone back in time, being stuck in the eighties wasn't so bad. At least I wasn't back in the twenties, though that could have been a fun experience.

Maybe this was just a very vivid dream, then. Anything could happen in a dream, even strange things like the desire to murder an innocent store clerk. Drop-dead gorgeous men like David only ever existed in dreams, not to mention time travel. And, when put next to my other two options, dreaming was another simple explanation. Fuck, it was an even better solution than being crazy. That meant that I could enjoy myself while the dream lasted and then wake up, still perfectly sane, with my life intact.

Doubt gnawed fiercely at me for a second time, my body physically rejecting my thoughts as I tried to rationalize them. A fierce shiver ran up and down my spine as I tried to push myself into denial. Deep in my heart I knew what reality was—reality was that I had, somehow, managed to teleport through time and space to a coastal town from the late eighties. And, as much I would have loved to, there was no refuting that.

A steady calm overtook me as I realized this. I hadn't even acknowledged that I was worrying until I felt its absence.

I lay there in the grass thinking for many hours. The moon had shifted across the sky and was now directly over my head. That was my only indication that I should get moving. If I guessed correctly—and I didn't put too much faith in my assumptions anymore—it was after midnight now. That meant that the boardwalk would be empty and so would the beach.

Picking myself up from the ground with a grunt I started to meander back towards Santa Carla. Laying down for so long had made my muscles stiff and it felt nice to stretch as I walked. The slowness of my pace tacked at least another ten minutes onto my trip, but I eventually made it to my not-so-private shower stall.

Laying out my 'accoutrements', I gave a quick glance around to make sure I was alone. I didn't hear any cars—more specifically any motorcycles—or people so I decided it was safe to get undressed. Turning on the water to give it a chance to think about warming up, I stripped down and washed my clothes. The water was strangely hot on my hands as I rinsed out my underwear and shirt. Maybe it wouldn't be so bad to have a shower today; the sun had obviously done a thorough job of warming the water in the pipes. I sucked in a deep breath to steel myself for the cold regardless.

I jumped out of the water running from the shower head almost as fast, if not faster, than I had thrown myself under it. Shock was not a large enough word to describe my surprised when the freezing water _burned_ my skin like I had just jumped into a vat of acid.

I stood, naked and staring at the shower. Maybe if I waited for another minute the water would return to normal. From the little time I had spent out in the sun, I guessed that it had been a particularly hot day today. Not that the day's temperature would explain how the water from the shower could sear my skin. I clearly remembered the last time I had used the 'public facilities' to bathe; the water was cold then and should be just as cold now.

Impatiently, I let a minute or two tick by before I jumped under the water again. It hurt just as much as it had the first time I tried.

Hopping out with a yelp, I considered my options. I couldn't bathe conventionally. As strange as that sounded, the pain just wasn't worth it. But, on that same note, it wasn't worth it to have clean clothes and a filthy body. I couldn't just _not_ bathe. Staring determinedly at the water that streamed out of the shower, I tried to figure out a way to successfully get myself clean. There would be time to freak out about the strange burning sensation the water inflicted later.

The best that I could come up with after wasting five minutes worth of water was to ladle it onto myself. I decided that I could handle little bits of pain at a time if the result was smelling nice. Cracking open my shampoo, I tackled my hair first. My hands tingled violently as I cupped them under the running water though, oddly enough, the pain stopped as soon as I pulled them out. The water trapped inside my hands caused me no pain at all. Bewildered by this, I let the water in my hands go and tried again. Surely enough, when I stuck my fingers under the running water they burned. But, as soon as I pulled them out, water trapped between my palms, the sensation stopped. This was another thing to consider later.

Concerns forced to the back of my mind, I got down to business. Once my hair was thoroughly wet, I lathered it with shampoo. Rinsing it out took quite a long time but I trucked on and eventually moved onto washing my body. This was much easier and, about a half hour later, I was done, dressed in my soggy clothes and on my way.

"This day couldn't possibly get any worse," I muttered as I meandered towards the outskirts of Santa Carla. I couldn't wait to get back to the bluff to put my feet up and sort things out.

It took nearly twice as long for me to get back to the bluff than it had for me to reach town. I was so distracted with my thoughts that I almost fell down the stairs to the mouth of the cavern. Luckily enough, I had been holding onto the railing so I didn't break my neck. I did get a handful of slivers for my trouble, though. Well, at least both of my hands matched now.

I could tell that the boys were still absent before I even reached the entrance. No fire light spilled from within and no sounds drifted over the crashing of the surf. Slipping thought the entrance, I shuffled like a ghost into the cavern. Moonlight filtered through the rifts in the ceiling in bright white shafts making spotlights throughout the otherwise dark space. I didn't bother to light a fire; there was no point. I didn't intend on being sociable if the boys came back any time soon, anyway.

Drifting across the foyer of the decimated hotel, I plunked myself down on the bed where David and I had spent the night previous together. Sitting at the edge of the mattress for a few moments, I picked out the splinters from my flesh. At least my unruly nails were useful for something.

Fifteen shards of wood later, I took the time to massage my temples. My head had started to ache somewhere on my way back from Santa Carla and I hadn't noticed until just now. I was suddenly feeling numb all over, like someone had injected me with Novocaine.

Once the pounding in my head calmed down to the point of being an inconvenience rather than an impairment, I shuffled into the middle of the bed. Drawing the makeshift curtains around me I separated myself from the rest of the world and all traces of light.

My clothes were still soaking wet so I took them off and laid them out to dry. Hiding myself away under the blankets, I relaxed into the mountain of pillows that separated me from the rocky cavern walls. I attempted several times to start sifting through all of the thoughts buzzing around in my head but I just couldn't make my brain work. Apathy weighed like a heavy quilt on my consciousness making just thinking about trying to work out my problems exhausting. I just couldn't make myself care anymore and that bothered me. But after a few minutes of futilely trying to get worked up enough to think, I gave up. Even being concerned was tiring and it made my headache come back with a vengeance.

Rolling onto my stomach, I buried my face in the pillows. The pounding in my head started to spread down my neck and into my shoulders and it wasn't long before the rest of my body hurt, my muscles throbbing like they were being stood on. The sad thing was that I just didn't care. I didn't care that my body felt like it was going to destroy itself, I didn't care that I was apathetic to the point of immobility. I cared about nothing.

And so I lay there, uncaring and prone under the blankets, as my body seemed to shred itself apart. Eventually my eyes drifted closed and I fell into a dreamless slumber.


	9. Chapter 9

**Author's Notes:**

_Hello once again, everyone!_

_Thank you all for the constructive criticisms! I want to make this story as well-rounded as it can be (for a fan-fiction, anyway) and it's very useful to have some feedback on the chapters. It makes it a lot easier to write._

_Keeping that in mind, I would just like to say that it was necessary to (tentatively) take Felicia and David's relationship so far so soon. It will play a part later in the story, I promise (but not in the way that you might be thinking; this isn't Twilight...)._

_Also, on a bit of a depressing note, the next update (chapter ten) might take a little bit longer to get pushed online. But, don't fret! It will be up by sometime on Monday (at the latest)._

_Regardless, as promised, here's another installment of Second Chance. Enjoy!_

_Sincerely,_

_Amaryllidinae_

* * *

**Nine**

I DON'T KNOW WHEN I bridged the gap between sleeping and the edge of consciousness. At first, I thought I was dreaming the voice that whispered in my ears. I couldn't make out anything that was being said but I was sure that someone was speaking near me. After a while of listening without comprehending, I began to distinguish the different tones. What I had thought was one person was actually four.

"… he's going to be pissed that we didn't find her!" It took a moment but I eventually recognized the voice as belonging to Marko.

"She's fine, though," Dwayne grumbled. "I don't see what the big deal is; it's not like she got herself hurt."

Paul scoffed loudly. "She did, you idiot. Can't you smell it?" His voice was annoyed.

"Yeah, but that's nothing," I heard Dwayne laugh. "I remember when I first found out…"

Rolling onto my side, I pulled a pillow over my head to try and block out the sound of the conversation. I wanted desperately to fall back asleep but I couldn't stop thinking about what I had heard. Who were the guys talking about?

That was all it took for me to completely cross into reality. Even if though I still wanted to try and doze off again, my muscles were so stiff that they ached. No matter what direction I turned, I was so uncomfortable that it was impossible to fall back asleep. Twisting back to my last comfortable position with a groan, I resisted the urge to spring up out of bed and held my eyes closed.

"… you're the world's biggest fuck-up," Marko laughed. I heard the tassels on his jacket rustle as he threw something across the room.

"Ow, you little shit!" Dwayne barked.

"Shh, she's waking up," David hissed, his voice crashing through the haze of those precious last moments of calm. My eyes fluttered open a moment later as I realized that the throbbing around my eyes meant I was starting to get a headache.

What a wonderful way to start the night.

Sitting up with another grunt, I rubbed the back of my neck. I felt as if I had run a marathon while drunk out of my mind. Every muscle in my body throbbed and ached and I felt slightly queasy. My head was light as I picked up my clothes and shoved them on. Once dressed, I flopped back onto the pillows and covered my face with my hands. Maybe if I tried not to think about it, my headache would go away. More sleep would probably help, too, but that was never going to happen.

Never before this had there been a time when I had wanted more than to fall off the face of the earth. "God, this just gets better and better," I moaned quietly to myself, putting so much pressure on my eyes that colours exploded behind my lids.

"Ya' look terrible," I heard Paul laugh. Prying my hands away from my head I glared at him. Paul was holding the deep red fabric that shielded me from the cavern tightly around his neck so I could only see his face and his hair. He flashed me a cheeky smile when I growled at him.

"Piss off, dip-shit," I muttered before covering my eyes again. Although I had the energy to get up I didn't feel like doing it. Getting up meant using my legs. Using my legs meant pain and more pain was very low on my list of desires. Inversely, a back rub was very high on that list…

"Ooh, and mad too," Paul chimed sarcastically, laughing impishly when I reached over to blindly throw a pillow at him. I watched through my fingers as he let go of the curtains and ducked to the side before the satin square could collide with his face. Paul deftly caught the dark blue missile, his hands moving too fast for me to see, and tossed it back. It hit me on the forehead, aggravating my budding headache.

"Leave me alone," I moaned, shoving the soft thing from where it had landed on my face, earning myself a healthy round of snickers from the others. Giving my eyes one last good rub I sat up and shimmied myself to the edge of the bed. Paul, wisely, backed away as I approached; my foot was at the optimal level to kick him in the groin and I wasn't exactly feeling even-tempered today. Lingering at the edge of the mattress, I mentally prepared myself to stand up. My muscles screamed in protest as I willed them into action and rose to my feet.

"So, what's on the agenda for tonight?" Marko smirked over his shoulder to David.

"We're going to the beach," he announced, rubbing his gloved hands together excitedly. "You ready, Flic, or do you need to take another nap?"

I felt my eyes narrow dangerously, my temper flaring from the jab. Couldn't he tell that I wasn't exactly feeling in tip-top shape? Shooting pains ran up and down my calves, proving my point when I shifted my weight. "I'm not going anywhere," I scoffed, massaging my lower back with both hands. The muscles felt like rocks under my fingers.

David smiled playfully, his eyes dancing like blue flames. "Yes you are."

"No, actually, I'm not," I sang. I was immediately taken aback by the venom in my tone. Why was I so mad? Hadn't I just been so exhausted a minute ago that I could barely get out of bed? David smiled as he watched my expression shift from pure hatred to confusion in less than a second.

"Someone woke up on the wrong side of the bed," Dwayne teased, lobbing my jacket to me. I caught it easily in one hand without looking away from David.

Temper flaring back to life, I rounded my ire on Dwayne. "You'd feel like shit too if you had a night like I did. Back off."

"Yeah?" he asked, doing a poor job of faking concern. "And what made _your_ night so bad?"

_Well, for starters, I gave serious thought to killing some poor girl who works at a video store. Oh, and, after that, I tried to shower but the water felt like acid on my skin. Then, as if __**that **__wasn't enough__, I had to walk all the way back here, soaking wet. Not to mention the fact that I woke up feeling like I've been run over by a bus, trampled by a herd of elephants and beaten with a baseball bat to within an inch of my life._

Yeah, because that would go over _so_ well.

"I woke up and you were here," I spat before shrugging on my coat.

A chorus of 'Ooohs' mixed with laughter came from Paul and Marko. Dwayne gave me the finger before lunging to tackle both of the other boys off of the edge of the fountain. David watched the three boys wrestle for a minute before he raised a hand, commanding silence. The cave fell silent instantly.

"You need to come with us," he declared, staring at me. He was smiling like what he said made perfect sense and there was no way I could argue with him.

"I don't need to do anything," I sneered. "Just because these three idiots follow you around like lost dogs doesn't mean that I have to."

David smiled, amused rather than offended by my unruly temper tantrum. "You're so stubborn," he chuckled.

"And you're trying my patience," I hissed.

"Like you have any," Dwayne drawled from my right.

"Enough from the peanut gallery!" I cried, overcome by a wave of exhaustion so strong that I had to sit down. My fingers went to worry my temples before I knew what I was doing. I felt like I could sleep forever.

"Want me to pick her up and carry her?" Paul snickered. He winked at me while flexing his muscles, kissing both of his biceps.

"Touch me and it'll be the last thing you do," I sighed, the threat halfhearted and unimpressive by anyone's standards.

He laughed manically before crossing the cavern to my side. "I'm so scared."

"That's enough," David said coolly just as Paul reached out to hoist me up by the arms. Paul shrugged nonchalantly before he sat down next to me, instead, proceeding to poke me repeatedly.

"Stop it," I moaned pathetically.

"Why?" Paul asked innocently, prodding me faster.

"Because I'd rather not break your jaw."

"Pfft, like you could hurt me."

"Care to find out?" I asked viciously, my temper going from zero to enraged-beyond-all-reason in less than a second.

Paul smiled his usual smarmy grin and I shot him the blackest glare I could manage in return. "I'd like to see ya' try."

"You're asking for it," I heard Marko snicker from the middle of the room.

"Five bucks says she ends up hurting herself," Dwayne sneered, obviously still mad from my comments earlier. I didn't blame him; I'd be mad, too.

"Deal," Paul laughed, still poking just above my left elbow.

Now, I honestly hadn't _intended_ to punch Paul in the face. I want to make that absolutely clear. So, needless to say, I was just as surprised as he was when I saw my right hand collide with his jaw, my fingers wrapped into a fist so tight my knuckles were blanched white.

A moment of stunned silence fell over all five of us. Marko and Dwayne broke into hysterical laughter when Paul howled in agony.

"You BITCH!" he roared, grasping onto his jaw.

"Like I said," Marko gasped between spasms of laughter. "You asked for it."

Fireworks exploded in my arm, the force of my punch reminding me how sore my body was. I wanted to cradle my arm until the pain passed but I also didn't want Dwayne to win his stupid bet with Paul. So, rather than make Paul look good, I cracked my knuckles loudly which didn't really do me much in the way of help. Pins and needles pricked at each of my fingers, the strange sensation radiating all the way up my arm to my shoulder.

"Don't touch me again," I muttered, my temper rapidly dwindling back into nonexistence. What on earth was wrong with me? I was angry, distraught and in absolute agony all at once and felt like sleeping even though I practically buzzing with energy.

"I promise I can make you feel better," David chuckled, his eyes dancing with mirth when I looked over at him. Pain flickered across his face when I gave him an exasperated sigh.

"Do I look like I'm in the mood to go anywhere but back to bed?"

"I could carry you," he suggested, smiling once again.

"Ha! Over my dead body."

"That could be arranged," Paul hissed as he rubbed his jaw.

"Oh lighten up," I sighed, bumping him gently on the shoulder. "I didn't punch you _that_ hard."

"Hard enough," he muttered darkly, shoving me back.

"I really am sorry," I said quietly turning towards him to inspect the damage I had inflicted. Paul winced as I gently pried his fingers away from his face. Brushing the locks of his wild hair aside, I looked closely at the little red dots that peppered his smooth skin. Apparently, I had hit him so hard that the capillaries had burst. Four perfect circles graced his jaw—one for each of my knuckles. He would have a very nice bruise by the end of the night. "I don't know why I did that," I sighed, suddenly so despondent I almost broke out crying.

"Don't say sorry," Marko smiled, indulging in his bad habit of biting his nails. "Paul's a dick, he deserved it. Nice right hook, by the way."

Reigning in my unexplained grief with a heavy sigh, I pushed myself up from the bed. My legs trembled a little and I prayed that the others couldn't see me shaking. "I'm going for a walk," I muttered before starting towards the exit.

"I thought you said you weren't the in mood for anything," David growled, swiveling his chair to follow me as I passed.

"I'm not," I said, not stopping. "I need some fresh air. I'll be back in fifteen minutes."

"I'll come find you if you're not back in exactly fifteen minutes," David threatened, his voice pleasant like he had just wished me to have a good time.

Stopping, mid-stride, I slowly turned to look at him. The most baleful kind of hate crept over my heart when I saw David's face: he was smiling serenely like nothing was the matter. "I'd like to see you try," I challenged blackly before turning on my heel and leaving.

I was fifteen minutes away from the bluff when I realized that I was running away and a half hour closer to Santa Carla when I started to enjoy myself. Sure, checking over my shoulder every so often to make sure that I wasn't being chased was a little paranoid-schizophrenic but that didn't matter. I couldn't hear any motorcycles in the distance so I kept going.

"It's not like David was actually being serious," I laughed aloud as I skidded down the familiar embankment onto the beach. I sounded much more convinced than I felt; a shiver ran up my spine when I remembered the danger in David's voice when he said he would come after me. Even though I knew I was being silly, I picked up my pace a little. Who was he to treat me like that anyways? Just because I slept with him for once didn't give him the authority to tell me where I could and couldn't go.

My legs were burning by the time I stumbled onto the Santa Carla boardwalk. I took a minute to rest against a streetlight and catch my breath. David and the other 'Lost Boys' were still nowhere to be seen. That was a tremendous help to my nerves.

Once I was settled and under control, I started meandering through the crowds. It was busy tonight—when was it not?—so there were lots of people to watch. No one paid much attention to me as I hobbled around, trying to keep out of the way of people who could walk faster. It was nice to be back with regular people for a change, surrounded by noise, lights and life instead of hormone-ridden boys.

Even though I spent most of my time with the guys, I still felt lonely. It was like they were from another world. Theirs was one I would never be able to see or understand, separated from mine by the thinnest of veils. The 'Lost Boys' were something distinct from me, as I was distinct from them—alien, somehow, through we looked the same. That barrier between us had lifted for a few short hours when David and I had been alone together. He felt _human_ then, as strange as that sounds. He felt like me, like we were the same. All traces of that closeness, that _sameness_, had disappeared overnight. Perhaps I was just too irritable to notice but David seemed to be back to his old, strange self. It was like nothing had happened between us at all. I guess I had been wrong when I thought that he had felt something more than just friendship towards me.

Jeeze, I am so hopelessly naïve and stupid!

Angry with myself, I walked along the same path up and down the boardwalk for almost an hour in quiet contemplation. All of the activity buzzing around my head distracting me from the dull ache in my body which was a nice reprieve (save for the fact that I was burdened with a lot of uncomfortable realizations).

I was hit hard with the harshness of reality when I paused to let a large group of young girls pass. Leaning against the wall behind me—I literally couldn't take another step in either direction without falling over—I writhed silently as an invisible knife raked up and down my legs.

"Are you okay?" a hardly concerned voice drawled from my right.

Jerking my head in the direction of the sound, I was greeted by the bored face of a teenage boy. He had short red hair and fair skin that was covered in tiny brown freckles. His eyes were blue like David's though the colour was nothing more than a cheap imitation. David's shone like ice over fire, dancing with mischief and wisdom in any light. This boy's eyes were watery and dull, echoing his perpetually unenthusiastic voice to a 't'. "Yeah, I'm fine," I grunted, struggling to keep my voice even when my gut twisted painfully.

"Good," he muttered, slouching further through the opening next to me. "So, are you going to buy anything then, since you're alright or whatever?"

"What?" I asked, looking at him like he was crazy. "What would I possibly buy from you?"

"Ice cream, duh," he sighed with a tremendous roll of his eyes. I followed his finger upwards as he lazily pointed it towards something over his head. A large neon sign flashed above both of us reading "Ice Cream" in big green letters.

"Oh," I said flatly. Great. Ice cream. I _hate_ ice cream.

"It's two-fifty for a small," he replied, equally joyful.

"I don't think I want anything."

"Well I'll call the security guard and tell him you're loitering if you don't."

"Coercion's illegal, you know," I hissed through clenched teeth, my temper flaring at the boy's audacity to try and blackmail me.

He grimaced a smirk that made his dull face look slightly evil. "Do I look like I care?"

No, it's very obvious that you don't. We stared at each other for a long moment before I broke eye contact. Sighing, exasperated, I fished around in my pockets for the remainder of my change. The last thing I wanted was to get kicked off of the boardwalk or, worse, arrested. Not that either of those things were likely to happen but I didn't want to risk it. "I have two-sixty-two," I snapped, slamming the coins down on the counter top. "Keep the extra twleve cents for your hard work."

"What flavour?" the red-head sneered as he scooped up the pittance.

"Surprise me," I growled, watching as he took his time to count the coins. Satisfied that I hadn't tried to jip him—heaven forbid that he get swindled while committing a crime—he pulled out a small wafer cone and dug around, his arm out of sight, in the freezer. A few seconds later, he held out a small heap of strawberry ice cream to me.

"Enjoy," he droned.

"Can't say that I will," I hissed, grabbing the cone from him and stomping away.

Now what was I going to do? The simple solution would be to toss the cone away but that seemed like an awful waste. After all, I had technically used Max's money to buy the disgusting mound of frozen milk.

Slipping into a small alleyway between two competing burger joints, I leaned against the wall. My muscles felt almost as tense as the brick I was resting on. Trying to relax, I took a deep breath and exhaled slowly, my head thudding gently against the rough surface behind it. Nothing helped.

I stared at the melting ice cream in my hand to tried and focus. It was especially humid and hot out tonight so the pink lump was already starting to drip. I watched, stupidly, as a large glob of pink goo ran down the side of the cone and onto my hand.

Great. Just _great_.

After passing the cone to my other hand, I lifted the mess to my face to lick it off. As I opened my mouth, I took in a deep breath of the sweet, strawberry fragrance and immediately felt sick to my stomach. My gut clenched uncomfortably, sending waves of pain radiating through my entire system.

"Not this again," I groaned before tearing my hand away from my face. I tried to clear away the smell of the ice cream with fresh air. That had helped before when I was at the VideoMax and Erin had been eating my chocolate bar. Unfortunately it didn't this time.

Another wave of pain built and exploded through me. This time it was so intense that my breath was knocked from my chest. I doubled over like someone had kicked me in the stomach. Gasping loudly to try and bring air back into my lungs, I collapsed to my knees. I had forgotten all about the ice cream in my hand until I felt it start to slip. As if in slow motion, I glanced down just in time to see it fall and splatter all over the ground.

Thick globs of liquified cream, sugar and wafer covered everything—myself included. The air was immediately filled with the disgusting fragrance of strawberries and I retched when the odour found my nose. Groaning loudly once the nausea passed a minute later, my breath shifted to ragged pants. My chest and stomach ached fiercely each time I took in more of the ice cream-polluted air.

"You okay?" David's tone was smartingly sarcastic and cruel, 'I told you so' practically jumping out from between his words. I could have cried.  
Not you! _Anyone _but you… "Just dandy," I gasped before my gut clenched so terribly that I almost screamed. Smothering my cry, I managing to let it come out as a pained moan instead.

"Flic seems like she's having a bit of a problem," David laughed, looking over his shoulder to the other three boys. Their laughter only made my stomach twist more painfully. I could do nothing but groan and curl into a tighter ball.

"Maybe you should help her, David," Paul laughed. I heard him push David through my gasps.

David laughed one quick, haughty burst. I flinched away when he neared and shut my eyes tightly. On any other occasion my heart would have raced from the proximity between us. Now I couldn't stand to be near him. "I don't know," he hedged, feigning indecision. I could practically hear the smirk he was undoubtedly wearing shine through in his voice.

"Well, if you can't make up your mind," I grunted, struggling to stand back up, "piss off; I don't need your help." I had made it about half of the way up but my knees gave out. My head cracked loudly against the wall, dazing me. David's face slipped in and out of focus a few times. When I could see clearly again, he was smirking at me and trying not to laugh.

"I would say you do," David grinned, tapping the end of my nose with his index finger.

I groaned, more out of frustration than pain this time. "Make up your mind already. If I don't die here on my own, your incessant _pestering_ will do the job."

"You're not going to die," David said quietly, his voice fierce.

"Then leave," I said quietly, begging. "If I'm not going to expire, I don't need to suffer with an audience."

"No," he laughed, leaning closer to me. Sometimes David's moods shifted so quickly I had trouble keeping up with him. "I'm not going anywhere."

"I wish you would," I moaned up towards the sky. David didn't suddenly vanish so I could only conclude that God wasn't paying any attention to me today. Not that he did on any other day of the week, either… At least He's consistent. "Why are you still here?" I complained, glaring pitifully up at David.

"I can make the pain go away," he whispered, his voice cutting through to my brain like the blade of knife, cool and painful, "but only if you ask for it." David's eyes were soft and pleading, silently begging me to let him help.

David's plain-faced sincerity was out of character. Immediately I felt wary; he was trying to pressure me into something that I wasn't sure I wanted. I may have been overwhelmed by pain but I still had a clear memory of every other time David had tried to 'help' me. Needless to say, he didn't have a very good track record so far. "What if I say no?" I hissed, giving him as fierce a glare as I could. It wasn't very effective. The effort it took to speak made my chest ache.

"Then I'll leave you here," David smiled, his voice matter-of-fact though the sentiment didn't reach his eyes. His expression was tainted with the kind of worry that made my heart ache stupidly for him. "I really don't want to do that."

"And why is that?"

David laughed again, his eyes dancing with their usual spark. "I've grown… _attached_ to your company. Plus," he smirked, "leaving would cause me more problems than keeping you around."  
"Excuse my underwhelming lack of enthusiasm but I find that hard to believe."

"Well start," David snapped, suddenly very impatient. "Do you want my help or not?" He placed a finger under my chin, making me look at him. "I don't have all night to waste on you."

A wave of tension and searing pain tore simultaneously through my body at his touch. I cried out, my head flying backwards into the wall a second time. Taking a moment to manage the new wave of discomfort my stupid knee-jerk reaction brought on, I silently weighed my options. On one hand, anything was better than this agony. If David knew some way to make it stop I really wasn't in a position to refuse him. But, on the other hand, he wasn't exactly being sympathetic. The tone of voice he was using worried me, like the help he was posing wasn't really going to be much help at all. It was enough to make me think that I would be better off dealing with this affliction on my own.

I sighed heavily mentally drained by indecision; the simple action made my muscles snarl in protest, reminding me of how much trouble I was in.

I guess I don't really have a choice. "Help me," I gasped, curling my head downwards in defeat.

Without a word, David scooped me up into his arms and held me securely to his chest. I should have been angry enough to spit at him but I couldn't help but feel happy to be so close to him.

Way to sound like ridiculous teenager who has a crush, Flic. Way to go…

That thought made me laugh. David's grip tightened around me as he carried me away from the boardwalk, the others racing ahead. They had been strangely silent throughout my whole conversation with David. What was with everyone tonight? No one was acting like they should, not even me.

"What so funny?" He muttered as he jumped nimbly from the planked walk to the beach seven feet below. The din of rumbling motorcycles grew louder as we crossed the sand.

"I just can't believe that I'm actually letting you carry me after how you're treating me today," I lied.

"I've done it before, you know. Twice, actually. You didn't seem to care then," David chuckled. The feel of his laughter against my body helped take my mind off of the pain that was stabbing at my every muscle. It was nice.

… Ugh.

"I was unconscious; it doesn't count," I muttered, embarrassed that I was letting my mind wander at a time like this.

"Just because you can't remember doesn't mean it didn't happen," he said, his voice devoid of the humor that usually coloured it when we argued. I considered looking up at him, to see if he was smiling, but the mere thought of lifting my head made my body hurt. And yet, as I thought about it, I didn't really care. I hoped he was angry; he deserved it. "Will you be able to hold onto me or am I going to have to tie your arms around my waist?" David continued blandly.

"I can hold onto you; it's not that bad," I growled as I was set down. It took all of my strength to keep from falling over.

"Like I believe that," Marko laughed from my left. It was the first time I had heard him talk in ten minutes.

"Shut up, ass," I barked, actually managing to sound threatening.

"Get on," David sighed, seemingly as exhausted as I was, after he kicked his bike to life. I climbed on behind him, lashing my arms around his stomach. As I did every time I touched him, I involuntarily blushed a horrifying shade of scarlet.

"You ready?" he said, glancing at me over his shoulder. His eyes were tight, the fire behind them dim. It was like he was dreading leaving the boardwalk.

A shiver ran up and down my spine and set my muscles ablaze with fresh pain. "As I'll ever be," I grunted, trying to keep my voice even and disguise my frustrations.

"Hold on, then."

With that, we shot off across the beach, the others close behind. The wind felt good on my face and took my mind off of the stabbing pain all over my body. Without thinking, I let my head rest in the crook of David's shoulder and nestled my head into his neck. It was so comfortable here, close to him. The last thing I remembered before I fell asleep was hearing mutter something that sounded and awful lot like 'This just gets harder and harder'.


	10. Chapter 10

**_Author's Notes:_**

_Hello again, everyone! __This is going to be a quick blurb:_

___I just wanted to say 'thanks' to everyone who's posted a review recently and that the next chapter should be up sometime later in the week (college is ruining my life...)._

___As always, I don't own the rights to the Lost Boys blah blah blah. It gets old fast, I know._

_Anyway, as promised, here's chapter ten. Enjoy!_

_Sincerely,_

_Amaryllidinae_

_P.S.: Slight bit of blood and gore in this chapter so, if you're squeamish, be forewarned. -- A_

* * *

**Ten**

"YOU HAVE TO WAKE up now, Felicia," David smiled at me, his eyes betraying the laughter he was trying to hide.

"Wake up?" I repeated, thoroughly confused. "What do you mean, 'wake up'? You're not making any sense, David." Why on earth would he be telling me to wake up? I wasn't even sleeping! David and I were talking, face-to-face, right now; I could clearly see him in front of me, there was no mistaking that. In fact, if I reached out I would have been able to touch him. People don't have conversations like this when they're asleep; it's impossible.

"Wake up," David said again, his smile widening. "It's really important."

Oh. So we're back to ignoring everything that I say, huh? Definitely not impressed. _At all_. "What are you _talking_ about, David?! I'm not asleep!" I yelled, stomping my foot on the ground for emphasis. Yeah, okay, so it was a little childish. Whatever. Desperate times call for desperate measures. I had to make David understand that he was being unreasonable. I mean, how could I possibly do what he asked if I wasn't comatose in the first place?

"C'mon, Felicia," he grinned coyly, still ignoring me. Reaching out to me, David placed his hand firmly on my shoulder and gave me a rough shake.

Well that was totally uncalled for. "What are you doing?" I barked, glaring at him. "I just want to know what the heck you're talking about. Is that really too much to ask? Because, honestly, you're taking this whole teasing _thing_ to an unbelievably unreasonable level."

David seemed completely unaffected by my ranting. Instead of getting angry or upset like he normally would, he sighed heavily his face crumpling slightly around the edges. "Wake up, Felicia," he pleaded, grabbing me by both of my shoulders and shaking me again. "This isn't funny any more."

… You're telling me. "Stop it, David!" I cried, trying to pull away from him. When I couldn't escape backwards and out of his reach I attempted to pry his fingers from my body. His hands were a lot stronger than I remembered.

"Wake up," David commanded, pulling me within inches of his face. Unable to move away, I could do nothing more than stare at him. Well 'scowl' is probably a better word—the angry look on David's face really iced my cake. After all the unsuccessful screaming and yelling I had done, who was he to expect that I would automatically bend over backwards for him the second he raised his voice? I'd rather eat a sack full of razor blades than do what he wanted right now.

"Why?" I hissed, struggling futilely against his grip. I didn't gain an inch.

"I'm trying to help you," he growled back, giving me another hard shake. "Wake up!"

I don't know what I missed, but you're not helping me in the slightest. "I'm. Not. SLEEPING!" I roared, trying to fight him off again. No matter how hard I wrestled against his hands David kept holding on, completely oblivious to my distaste for how he was treating me.

"Wake up," he commanded again, shaking me so hard that my head tipped backward and collided with something hard.

My eyes snapped open just as David dropped his hands from my shoulders. He was very close to me, watching my eyes dart around him as I tried to place where I was. His face melted into a mask of guarded relief when I finally met his gaze. "Took you long enough," he grunted before standing upright. I couldn't help but notice the hint of a sigh in his voice.

After another cursory look around, I registered the fact that I was leaning against a large boulder. The ocean wasn't more than five meters away—I could hear the waves breaking on the shore—which explained why my hands were covered in sand. All of that was nice to know but it didn't tell me how I had gotten here. "What's going on?" I asked stupidly, rubbing the back of my head. I couldn't figure out why it was so sore; it felt like someone had smacked me with a rock.

"Somehow you managed to fall asleep," David muttered as be bent over to dust away the sand that clung to his jeans. Although I couldn't see his face I could tell that he was wearing his usual smarmy grin.

Jerk.

"You say that like it's an impossibility," I growled under my breath, glaring at David even though he wasn't looking. To keep myself from getting unnecessarily aggravated—well _more_ aggravated; I was already upset—I focused just past David's shoulders. Dwayne, Marko and Paul were milling around a little ways down the beach and talking excitedly. They were concentrating intently on something in the distance and pointing at whatever they could see; it was very intriguing.

It wasn't hard for me to decide that it would be better for me to go check out what the other boys were up to instead of remaining in the sand near David. I was still mad at him and wanted to spend as little time with him as was necessary. Things were better for everyone that way, especially me.

After giving my head one last quick massage, I tried to get to my feet. Of course, I failed miserably—I had forgotten about how sore my body was until I tried to use my legs. As I forced my knees to bend and legs bear my weight, my muscles instantly rebelled. At first, it felt like my calves were on pins and needles. Then, as if that weren't fantastic enough, the feeling spread to my thighs and continued upwards towards my torso and arms. The sensation only lasted long enough for me to realize what was going on before each invisible pin-prick exploded like three tonnes of dynamite.

I had to steady myself against the boulder behind me to keep from falling to my knees.

"'Are you gonna be okay?" David asked calmly, never once looking at me. Instead, he was busying himself with fixing his hair—which, I had to admit, _did_ look a little windswept… Not that I was staring or anything—as he stared in the direction of the others.

Yeah, sure, I'll be okay. My body's only feels like its _cannibalizing_ itself but I'll be fine; this happens all the time. "Yup," I grunted, my teeth ground tightly together, as I forced myself to stop leaning on the rock. Pain stabbed up and down my legs from the added weight but I didn't allow myself to collapse again. Searing, hell-sent agony or not, I was going to walk around on my own like nothing was wrong if it was the last thing I ever did.

Mentally bracing myself, I took a tentative step away from the boulder. Every part of my body that was even _remotely_ involved in walking tried to rip itself apart. Instead of stopping—and trust me, I really felt like stopping—I kept shuffling one foot in front of the other and eventually moved an entire three feet away from the massive rock.

Pausing for a moment to take a deep breath in, I made sure my face was composed before I kept going. Satisfied I didn't look nearly as horrible as I felt, I stuck my nose in the air and continued walking.

Okay, maybe this won't be so hard after all.

"You don't have to pretend like nothing's wrong," David chuckled when I breezed past him at a rather good clip. And by 'rather good', I mean 'slightly faster than a gimped hobble'.

"Who's pretending?" I muttered as I trudged through the sand towards the other three boys. It was a real struggle to stop myself from growling when David trailed after me. He kept a fair distance away from me but I didn't need to be close to him to tell that he was being smug.

"Well, if I were in the habit of stating the obvious—"

"—Which you are, if you haven't noticed—" I interrupted blackly as I stumbled.

"—as I was saying," David chuckled, pausing when I stopped to take a quick rest, "you don't look as great on the outside as you seem to think."

You did _not_ just say that. "And what's _that_ supposed to mean?" I hissed, rounding on him. The action was so stressful on my already tired knees that they buckled slightly. Luckily, I was able to steady myself before I fell over. My second almost-face-plant didn't really aid my acting performance, though.

"I didn't mean it like that," David barked, his eyes narrowing dangerously.

We glared at each other in silence for a full minute before I looked away. I didn't like the tired look in David's eyes; it was making me feel nervous, not to mention sorry for him, and that was most definitely the _last_ thing I wanted on my mind. I had more important issues to deal with than stressing over someone who didn't care for me.

Turning my back on David, I took another few steps through the sand. Only a few more meters left…

"I do care," David sighed to himself, his voice so quiet I was unsure I even heard him.

"What?" I demanded, turning back to leer at him. I knew I had really heard him speak when worry lighted his eyes. Apparently, I wasn't supposed to hear what he had said.

I could have sworn that he looked embarrassed but David didn't stick around long enough for me to get a proper look at his face. In fact, he seemed so flustered that he forgot that I was a little 'unsteady' on my feet. "I didn't say anything," he snapped, pushing past me.

Of course, I fell over because of him. My knees and palms tingled harshly when I hit the ground. Curling my fingers into the sand to vent some of my frustration, I stared after David as he walked away. Yeah, just keep walking. Don't come running to help me or anything; you only _pushed me over_ but I don't want to make work for you… "Sure you didn't," I grumbled.

"Get up," he called angrily over his shoulder.

"You _ass_," I fumed. How could he possibly be so… so… _unfeeling_? It took a minute but I eventually pulled myself back upright. By this time, my legs were in so much pain that they were actually going numb. Trust me, I was just as amazed as Paul was when I finally tottered into the proximity of the group.

"I thought you were never going to make it," he laughed, clapping me on the shoulder.

Was it a bad thing that I really didn't feel his hand on me? Better question still: should I have cared in the first place? "Don't touch me," I complained.

Paul flashed me his usual wide grin. "Still grumpy, hm?"

If I was feeling better, I probably would have grinned back. "I have every right to be."

"Not for long, you won't," Marko teased from behind his hand, his nails between his teeth as per usual.

"And why is that?" I asked skeptically. There was little on the face of the planet that could begin to make me feel better other than a long, hot bath and possibly a massage.

Marko and Paul shared an excited glance and a laugh instead of answering me. I didn't like the wicked edge that the sound carried; it made my skin crawl.

"… She's going to be a hindrance more than anything," I heard Dwayne hiss to David under the din Marko and Paul were making. The two of them were standing apart from the rest of us and arguing about, well, _me_. I was the only 'she' in sight, so it only made sense that I was who Dwayne was griping over. I pretended to listen to what Marko and Paul were chattering about as I eavesdropped.

"Well, I don't really have a choice," David snarled. He was glaring at something in the distance, his eyes reflecting the moonlight as they scanned the horizon.

Dwayne sighed heavily, the chains on his jeans jingling as he shifted his weight repeatedly. It didn't take a rocket scientist to know that he was riled up. "She can hardly _walk_, David!"

"She'll be fine. Once we get closer—"

"—This isn't normal—_she's_ not normal!" Dwayne interrupted furiously. "None of us ever had it this bad; something's wrong. Stop trying to fool yourself."

It was David's turn to let out a long sigh. "I'm not."

"You're hopeless," Dwayne laughed, the sound acidic.

"You should get your facts straight before you start talking," David snapped back.

"That, coming from you, is ridiculous."

"You're getting a little out of line, Dwayne."

"Don't try to pull that shit on me, David. The problem is that you need to get your priorities straight and I don't care—"

"That's enough,' David snarled.

The two of them fell silent for a moment. There was no sound on the beach save for Marko and Paul's excited whispers. I tried to pay attention to them but I couldn't make myself focus. After a minute, the only thing I had gleamed from their conversation was that they were talking about a party.

"No," David said suddenly, "that has nothing to do with this."

Okay, is it just me or did that not make any sense at all?

Dwayne scoffed, continuing their conversation like David hadn't just said something totally random. "You realize you're in way over your head, right? And dragging the rest of us down with you, I might add…"

"When have I ever let you down?" David retorted coldly.

"Fine, I'll give you that."

I could hear David's eyes roll through his voice. "Because _that_ was the most sincere thing I've ever heard…"

"You know it," Dwayne scoffed. "So, if you're so 'in control' of the situation, what's your plan?"

David let out a quick humorless laugh. "Does it matter what the plan is? I have everything under control—that's all you should be worried about."

"Great," Dwayne spat before he stormed off into the distance, muttering darkly under his breath.

"Hey, Flic, ya' paying attention?" Paul laughed as he waived his hand back and forth in front of my eyes.

I jumped when his palm brushed my nose. "Yeah," I said quickly, ignoring Marko and Paul when they snickered at my expense.

"You're a total space-case," Marko smiled. On any other occasion I probably would have argued with him but, for once, he was right. I was too distracted to really pay attention to anything; I couldn't stop thinking about the disjointed conversation that David and Dwayne just had. Maybe I had missed what he had said, but I could have sworn on my father that Dwayne was silent until David had spoken. It was like David had responded to some silent question that Dwayne had made. I mean, maybe the two of them had been whispering so I couldn't hear them—David did seem to have the uncanny ability to tell when I was snooping—but that seemed unlikely. If I was sure about anything right now it was that David and Dwayne had both stopped talking for at least a full minute.

Actually, the more I thought about it, the more I realized that David did that a lot—answer things or mention things that I had never expressly said, I mean. For starters, the night after he had tried to kill me with Chinese food I had never told him that I was going to see Max at his store. He and the others had just _shown up_ outside the door, unannounced. After that, when had I _ever_ told him my last name? Never, obviously, but he had used it to goad me into crawling underneath the trestle that same night. Thirdly, I hadn't made a sound when I woke up this evening and yet he had been able to tell that I was conscious from all the way across the room. And, if I was to keep going, he had argued with me only ten minutes ago when I had _thought about_ how little he cared about me. Top that off with his response to Dwayne's silence and the list was getting a little too long for comfort.

If Dwayne thought that _I_ was weird, I was interested to hear what his thoughts on David were.

"She's totally ignoring you, dude," Paul called over to David, snapping me out of my silent reverie.

"No, I'm not," I grumbled, giving Paul a good shove on the shoulder. I instantly regretted the action because it set my arm tingling viciously. Not that I let Paul see my discomfort or anything… Glancing around the wild mess of Paul's hair—though I really shouldn't have wasted the effort; Paul and Marko both walked away in the direction Dwayne had left after I pulled my attention from them—I glared over at David. "What do you want?" I asked callously.

"Get moving," he barked. The threat behind his words failed because of his tone; he sounded almost as tired as I felt.

Awesome, more walking. "Why?" I whined, shuffling through the sand towards him regardless.

"You'll find out soon enough," he explained in his usual fashion.

"I don't see why you have to keep me in the dark about every little thing you want me to do," I muttered when I got closer to him, regret flooding my stomach. I hadn't been able to see David's face clearly from so far away and, now that I could, I didn't like what I saw. He looked absolutely exhausted and fiercely excited at the same time; his eyes were wild with energy but his mouth was drawn into a tight frown. I instantly got the feeling like I was ruining something that he usually enjoyed.

"If I did, you wouldn't do what I told you to."

"Who says I do anything you want anyway?"

A hint of a genuine smile flickered across David's face. "You do more often than you think."

Sure, because you know exactly what I think. "You're delusional," I scoffed, trying to keep the shiver than ran up my spine from creeping into my voice. My earlier thought didn't sit well with me for some reason.

"I get that feeling sometimes, yeah," he teased unenthusiastically before turning and following after the others.

I stood in the sand for a moment, watching him disappear into the distance. Normally, I don't have a hard time making up my mind. I can (usually) see what the right choice is—where I'm concerned—and once I make that decision I stick to it. Taking stock of everything that happened tonight, it was becoming increasingly difficult to see where my right path lay. David had promised me that he knew how to make me feel better and, against my better judgment, I trusted his word. Yeah, it didn't really make sense to me either but I had given up on arguing with my intuition; no matter what happened, it was _always_ right. And even though that was true, I couldn't shake my suspicions that I didn't really want the help David was offering me. Sure, I _needed_ the help—it really wasn't worth the remaining scraps of my pride to keep suffering like this forever—but something about the way he was treating this whole… _situation_ was unsettling.

Maybe this was what Melany had meant when she said I would have to make two really hard choices. I could definitely chalk this up as being one of the more trying things I've ever had to debate over.

Although there was no refuting that this was a hard choice, something inside of me told me that the storm was just starting. I really wasn't dreading following David but what was waiting for me just down the beach. God, this would have been so much easier if someone would just tell me what's going on!

I gnawed on my lip as I thought. David was almost with the others now and I still hadn't managed to make up my mind. Weighing my options again—either following, getting the help I needed and bruising my pride or staying behind, suffering for the rest of the night and saving face—I decided to leave it to chance. Pulling my grandfather's lighter out of my pocket, I turned it so that the pattern was facing me, leaving the smooth side against my palm.

If it landed face up in my hand, I would follow David. If it didn't, I would go sit back against the boulder and wait for the boys to get back.

I ran my thumb over the engraving before closing my fingers around the lighter. Okay, Flic, on the count of three.

One…

… Two…

… _Three_.

Tossing the lighter up out of my hand I watched as it tumbled through the air, the jacket glinting in the moonlight. I found myself worrying that I would end up being forced into the wrong choice—that I wouldn't choose to follow after David.

My heart raced as my lighter streaked back towards me like a little silver bullet. I caught it easily in one hand and knew what my decision was the second I wrapped my fingers around it. Regardless I uncurled my fingers and looked down at my palm, the familiar Venetian pattern staring me in the face.

Relief quieted my speeding heart. I took a moment to relax before I shoved my heirloom back into my pocket and walked after the boys. It was easier to move now that I had been standing for so long. Not to say that I didn't still feel terrible all over—my legs were numb but in a very painful way. They throbbed dully with each step that I took and I was happy to stand and rest when I finally reached the others. The boys were standing at the crest of a small dune, watching something on the other side.

"… I want the dark haired one," Paul enthused as I tried to catch my breath.

"You're so picky," Dwayne scolded, never taking his eyes off what was just out of my sight.

Marko chuckled excitedly to himself, bouncing slightly up and down. "C'mon, lets _go_."

"Be patient," David ordered though he sounded just as on-edge. I found myself not wanting to look at his face; his voice was off from its usual aloof tone—he sounded frightening.

"What's going on, David?" I asked, my voice unimpressive and meek.

All four boys turned to look at me like they had just noticed I was there.

"Took you long enough," Paul grumbled.

"That doesn't answer my question," I huffed, angry that he was being so curt.

"You ask too many questions," Paul continued, ranting. When he took a threatening step towards me, Dwayne placed a heavy hand on his shoulder, restraining him.

"Chill, man," Marko laughed.

"No," Paul seethed, turning his directionless anger on the smaller boy. "I can't wait any longer!" I stared, amazed that he could be so upset over nothing.

I guess this is how I had looked to everyone else earlier this evening. How embarrassing…

As if Paul's little emotional explosion was a cue, David finally decided to speak. "Do you trust me, Felicia?"

I stared at him, 'incredulous' practically scrawled across my face in large red letters. "Think about what you just asked me and try that again."

David rolled his eyes impatiently. "Do you trust me?" he asked again.

"No, but do I really have a choice?" I drawled sarcastically.

"Good," he replied pleasantly, his smile reminding me of the look a lion wears just before it's about to pounce on its kill. "Come with us."

"Where?" I cried, frustrated. "We're in the middle of nowhere!" As I looked around me, as if to prove my own point, I noticed that there was light coming from beyond the dune we were standing on.

How had I not noticed that before?

Pushing through the boys, I peered over the crest of the hill. About one-hundred meters away I could see a small fire that was surrounded by a group of five dark shapes; some people were camping on the sand. From this distance it was impossible to tell what they were doing but they seemed to be having a good time.

Fat load of help you are, David. "We're crashing a party?" I asked, unimpressed.

"Kind of," David smiled, making the others laugh. Again, I felt like I had missed a very important joke.

I glared at David, silently berating him with questions. How was ruining someone's late-night party going to _possibly_ help me? If anything at all, I was going to trip and fall down the side of the dune making more trouble for myself than I had on my plate in the first place. Then again, I was probably missing some key piece of information—like always. For all I knew, the people at the bottom of the hill would turn out to be a run away group of doctors.

Stranger things _had_ happened…

"Now?" Paul groaned once he stopped laughing. He sounded surprisingly desperate, like a kid who has been waiting to open his Christmas presents for hours.

David nodded indulgently, never once taking his eyes off of me. His smile had widened significantly giving his face a very maniacal look. I didn't like it at all.

"_Yes_," Paul breathed, his eyes glowing with excitement.

"Make sure you leave some for the rest of us," Dwayne teased though his eyes were just as crazed as Paul's. Come to think about it they _all_ looked like Paul, like wild animals.

Just as I going to open my mouth to tell David that I didn't think this was a good idea any longer, he disappeared. And I mean that quite literally. He was just _gone_. They _all_ were! One moment, I was could see David and the boys in front of me as plain as day and then next they had vanished. Also, as if that was bad enough, I was almost knocked over by a tremendous gust of wind that swept over the top of the dune. This was strange because, in so far as _I_ had noticed, it wasn't windy out tonight. There wasn't even a breeze coming off of the ocean before and now my hair was being whipped around my face and sand was being blown into my eyes like there was no tomorrow. Stranger still, after about five seconds, the gale stopped.

First it was pain of the most unbearable kind and now freak weather systems. God, this couldn't get any worse…

It wasn't long after that when I heard the screams.

My eyes snapped downhill, locking on the fire in the distance, when another ear-piercing wail rang through the air.

"David!" I yelled, terrified, as I watched one dark shape tackle another to the ground against the raging flames. Where on earth had he and the others gone?!

A tiny, twisted and withered corner of my heart already knew the answer, but I decidedly ignored it.

Bolting down the dune at a frantic pace, I raced through the sand towards the bonfire. The screams and shrieks of the people surrounding the flames intensified as I neared, sending shivers up and down my spine. That alone was enough to send my skin crawling but what made it worse was the laughter. I could actually hear people _laughing_ just underneath the agonized cries as I drew nearer, running with more energy than I had thought possible.

I skidded to a halt just outside of the glow of the fire and almost screamed.

The make-shift campsite had been decimated and blood coated _everything_. Dwayne, Marko and David were hunched like feeding wolves over the bodies of three men, their lips and hands coated in red. I arrived at the scene of the massacre just in time to watch as Paul leaped through the air across the width of the campsite (fire pit and flames included) to tackle the last-standing survivor. She was wailing hysterically as she tried to flee into the night, unaware of the _thing_—I didn't feel comfortable calling Paul 'human' anymore: he had _fangs_, for fuck's sake!—that was coming after her. She screamed so loudly and shrilly when Paul landed on her that my ears hurt—well that is until the sound cut off in a bloody gurgle that made my stomach churn. I had to forcefully rip my eyes from Paul as he proceeded to rip her throat to shreds.

I had never seen anything more violent, grisly or disturbing in my life.

But, all that aside, the truly chilling thing was that_ I wanted to join them_. I wanted to kill someone myself, to participate in the slaughter.

The heavy metallic smell of the air was maddening. Every breath that I drew in made my body ache for a taste of the blood that ran from the throats of the partiers. I was jealous that I had been so slow in making it to the bottom of the dune.

Wait… _what_?

Panting—but sickeningly not because I was tired—I watched as the boys drained the bodies of blood, tossing the corpses into the fire when they finished. It took every ounce of strength that I had—and I suddenly had more energy than I could feasibly handle—to keep myself from taking another step.

"I can't decide if she's scared or excited," Paul laughed, triumphant, as he tossed the corpse of the skinny dark-haired woman he had ravaged onto the fire. The flames roared higher into the night sky, bathing me in light.

The others laughed but I didn't really hear them—my ears were ringing loudly out of shock. I only noticed that David was walking towards me when his shadow fell on my face. He was wiping the back of his hand at the corner of his mouth as he stopped.

"We saved one for you," he smiled, his eyes dancing with electricity. I had always imagined that there was possibly some way that David's gorgeous face could look evil but had doubted that I would ever see the day. I was ready to eat each and every one of my words—bitter taste, apostrophes and all—because that day had just arrived.

"What?" I asked absently. I was so focused on fighting back the war between the intense need and gut-wrenching fear that raged inside of me that I wasn't really sure what he had said.

David smiled as if he found me amusing. "Come with me," he said pleasantly though the tone didn't match the coldness in his eyes. He didn't hesitate before turning his back to me and walking away. He motioned for me to follow as he retreated, weaving his way around to the other side of the fire. I followed him, forcefully averting my eyes when I neared the pyre; I didn't want to see the bodies that were being incinerated amongst the flames.

"Heh, look at that," Dwayne laughed as I came up behind David, "he's trying to run away."

"More like 'drag'," Marko snickered, the venom in his voice astonishing. Paul and Dwayne laughed uproariously at his comment.

It was impossible _not_ to hear the pained grunts coming from the other side of David. In the silence that followed the sound of the boys' mirth, just under the crackle of the fire, I could hear someone sobbing quietly and the scraping of something being dragged. I rooted my feet firmly and deeply in the sand to keep from running over to see what it was.

"Don't be shy," David smiled over his shoulder to me, his eyes serious.

"I'm not shy," I grumbled, my voice wavering slightly at the end. 'Shy' was definitely the wrong word to use. Terrified? Sure. Mortified? Yes. Disgusted? Of course. Shy? _Hell no_.

David shook his head slowly before turning to face me. So quick that he seemed to vanish again, David appeared behind me with his hands placed firmly on the tops my arms. I focused my eyes intently on the moon instead of letting them drop to the ground like I wanted them to. I didn't want to see who was trying to run away from me. "Then come closer," he whispered into my ear as he pushed me through the sand.

"David, no," I whined pitifully, unable to keep him from forcing me onward. Eventually we stopped and he spun me away from the horizon and back towards the fire pit. The other boys were watching me intently, satisfied and encouraging smiles on each of their faces.

"Please," a strange voice cried up at me from my feet. My eyes flickered downwards before I could stop them; I instantly regretted my mistake. A man with chestnut hair was laying before my feet and gazing up at me. He was skinny, tall and, on any other occasion, would have been rather good looking. Scanning over the rest of his prone body, I noticed that both of his legs were sticking out at awkward angles across the ground like his knees had been broken. He was also bleeding from a deep gash across his lower back, staining his T-shirt red.

"Don't kill me," he continued, begging when I looked back to his eyes, "I'm only twenty-five!" He then reached out at my ankle, trying to grab onto me as fresh tears spilled from his eyes. I recoiled instantly, frightened, and bumped into David's chest.

"Put him out of his misery," David whispered, his voice steely.

"What?" I gasped, struggling to pull away from David's hands; I didn't make much progress.

"Kill him," David said quietly into my ear. "Drink his blood; it will help, I promise."

"NO, PLEASE!" the dying man screeched, trying again to latch onto my ankles. I managed to side-step him and out from David's hands in once quick move.

"I can't," I whimpered, fighting against the desire that David's simple, albeit _morbid_, instructions inspired within me. I wanted to kill the unfortunate man before me more than anything in the world but I was so scared and repulsed with myself that I couldn't make my body work.

"Yes, you can—you _will_," David said sternly.

I shook my head stupidly as I gazed down at the man on the ground. He had given up on trying to reach out to me and had buried his face in his arm, crying. "I—I don't know how," I stammered. Astonished by my own words—that wasn't what I had intended to say at all—I took a tentative step backwards towards the surf. What is _wrong_ with me?! I just witnessed four people get butchered like cattle by my friends—I should be running away screaming bloody murder, not giving serious thought to killing someone myself!

The other boys laughed as they listened to me protest.

"Five says she doesn't go through with it," Paul said, making sure he was being loud enough for me to hear him.

"Deal," Dwayne and Marko said in unison, distracting me.

"It's easy," David beckoned, holding his hand out to me. The hint of disgust I was feeling shining through in his words. "I'll show you."

"David, please don't make me do this," I whispered as I felt myself take a few robotic steps through the sand.

"I'm not making you do anything," he muttered blackly. I paused to watch David fish through a few of the pockets on his duster. His triumphant smile was tainted with disdain when he pulled out a small silver switchblade. With a smooth flick of his wrist the blade flew open, glinting keenly in the firelight. Just looking at it sent icy shivers through my body.

The soft click of the knife locking was enough to draw the prone man from his lamenting. I watched as his eyes grew wide when he saw the knife in David's hand. "No, please!" he cried, turning his useless pleas to David.

"Shut up or I'll slit your throat," David hissed, his voice like vitriol. "Come here, Felicia," he commanded, motioning to me with the knife.

Before I knew what I was doing I was kneeling next to him, gazing down at the condemned man—my intended victim. I had to fight back the excitement that bubbled in my stomach, sending tendrils of adrenaline through my system, as I watched David grab a handful of the man's hair. The man cried out, the sound a mixture of fear and pain; it made me shiver violently.

Roughly yanking back my victim's head, David exposed the vulnerable flesh of the man's neck. "I'm going to give you a place to start, but that's all," David whispered as he placed the small knife to the man's jugular. The blade was so sharp that the tiny amount of pressure David had used broke the skin, drawing a tiny bead of blood. "You have to kill him yourself."

"I can't," I said pathetically, watching the man as he cried quietly. I felt sorry for him. I felt sorry for _me_.

"Do it," David hissed sideways at me before raking the knife across the man's throat.

The wound was superficial at best but that didn't stop it from bleeding. After all, I had a lot of experience with cuts and scrapes and I had found that, over the years, it was always the ones which really weren't that bad that bled the most. A thick ribbon of crimson oozed out and down the man's neck as soon as David pulled the knife away. I couldn't stop staring.

The smell was intoxicating. Warm, sweet and salty, I could think of nothing other than feeling the hot lifeblood of the brown-haired man on my tongue. It took all of my strength—and then some that I didn't have—to keep myself from launching, head first, towards his bleeding neck.

Still holding onto his hair, David looked to me expectantly. "Go on," he pressed.

Glancing to David's eyes, worried, I let myself lean slightly closer to the open gash. Taking in a deep breath through my nose, I sighed contently. The smell was fascinating! It was the perfect mix between the world's most amazing perfume and the most delicious meal ever created. It made my mouth water.

"It's easy once you start," David encouraged, his voice quiet and cold. I didn't doubt him.

Leaning the rest of the way down, I let my lips hover over the open wound. I could practically feel the heat of the red liquid on my skin. Goosebumps erupted across my skin, sending pleasant shivers across my entire body.

"That's it," David sighed, relieved.

Yes. Just one quick flick of my tongue, and I would be able to put this insane _desire_ to rest. One quick taste and everything would be fine. It would be easy…

That was all it took for fear to take over me. Rocketing backwards through the sand, I scrambled to my feet—and yes, I did stumble and trip a few times—and continued retreating. Paul, of course, started cheering because he had just won his bet.

"No, no, _no_," I repeated, shaking my head when David looked sadly up at me. "No."

"Felicia," David sighed, letting go of the brown-haired man's hair.

"No," I reeled, still stumbling blindly backwards.

Apparently, that was all I could say now.

"Felicia," David pleaded, "relax. Come here."

"No," I said fiercely, still backing away.

David's eyes looked absolutely ancient as he watched me flee. "It will help you, I promise."

"You think I trust you?" I screamed, suddenly so frightened that I was angry.

"You have to," he begged, sounding very unlike himself.

"I don't have to do anything—especially not _kill_ some poor stranger!" I cried before turning on my heel and running away down the beach.

It was very dark as I escaped away across the sand and away from the bonfire, but that didn't matter. All that I cared about now was getting as far away from everyone and everything as I could.

I ran until I couldn't run anymore.

Exhausted, I became careless and tripped over a rock that was jutting out of the sand. I let myself fall to the ground, limp. My lungs were burning and my legs were dead as I flipped onto my back and looked up at the stars. It was very calming here, laying next to the ocean, and, once my breathing had slowed down, it gave me time to react properly—like I should have a long time ago.

Tears poured in torrents down my face, but no sobs followed. These were not tears of sadness but of frustration, anger and disappointment rolled into one big, wet package. Closing my eyes I let myself cry, intent to do so until I ran out of tears.

"That was uncalled for," David growled from the distance a moment or two later. Shocked, I pried my eyes open, wiping away some of the moisture, and looked up at him. He was standing over me and looking extremely frustrated.

"How did you do that?" I demanded, rolling into a sitting position.

"Do what?" David replied, exasperated.

"Appear out of nowhere!" I howled at him.

"That's not important," he hissed, rolling his eyes. "You need to come back with me and finish what you started."

"STOP TELLING ME WHAT TO DO!" I bellowed, pounding my fists into the sand. "Can't you tell that I want to be alone?"

"What you want isn't important anymore," he said flatly, "I'm telling you what you _need_ to do. Trust me."

Fresh tears welled and spilled from my eyes. "You keep saying that but, so far, you haven't given me a reason to. I mean, be _rational_, David! You want me to _kill someone_!"

David sighed heavily as if talking about this was taxing on him. "It's what you are, Felicia," he placated.

"And what is that, exactly?" I barked, tears still rolling in fat droplets down my cheeks. "A murderer? Or maybe I'm psychotic—that's the only explanation for wanting to _kill_ an innocent person! NORMAL PEOPLE DON'T WANT TO DO THAT, DAVID!"

This was hardly the time for laughing, but David did anyway. "You're not crazy, Felicia," he smiled in the moonlight, his voice sad. "You're turning into a vampire."


	11. Chapter 11

_**Author's Notes:**_

_Hello again, everyone!_

_I'm sorry that this update took so long to be posted; I had a rather tumultuous week/weekend. But, fear not! Chapter Eleven is here!_

_Thank you, once again, for all of the positive reviews. They really mean a lot to me and the input they provide is invaluable._

_Okay. Now, I don't wan to say it but I have to keep repeating myself. I (obviously) don't own the rights to the Lost Boys etc. etc._

_That being said, I hope you all enjoy the newest installment!_

_Sincerely,_

_Amaryllidinae_

_P.S.: In my rush to post this latest chapter, I've made a terrible mistake and totally disregarded the way that physics work. The ending has been edited; please re-read the last five paragraphs if you feel so inclined. My sincerest apologies (I live on the prairies, hopelessly landlocked. Not that something like that is an excuse for my mistake. I feel like a total fool hahaha). -- A._

* * *

**Eleven**

I CAN QUITE HONESTLY say that I had the worst sleep of my life after we got back from the beach. Although I slept like the dead (hardy-har-har), I woke up more exhausted than ever. All night, my brain—or conscience, depending on how you want look at things—assaulted me with the most vivid and hellish nightmares imaginable. Normally, it wouldn't have phased me; I have bad dreams all the time. But what made these so terrifying was that, no matter how hard I tried, I couldn't make myself wake up.

Usually, when I dream, I'm somewhat in control of what's going on. If I decide that I don't like where a dream is headed—or, conversely, I don't like where it's ended up with a capital 'scared'—I just wake up. It's really that simple. Then, once I've calmed down, I quietly go back to sleep and start all over again, typically with much happier dreams as a result.

But, like I said, it would have been a blessing to make my guilt-fueled nightmares stop—that never happened, though. I remember at one point in my dreams I was actually yelling at myself to open my eyes and make the images stop. But I couldn't. It was like I was actually on the beach again, living through an intensified (and admittedly far more dramatic) repeat of the night. And it really did seem real even though I knew I was dreaming. I could truly feel the heat of the fire on my skin; taste the sea salt on the wind; smell the heaviness of the blood in the air… It was like nothing had changed, like I had never left the fireside.

I remember wanting to shut my eyes forever so I wouldn't have to see the flames before me. If I could have given anything to never see again for as long as I lived, I would have. Money, a life-long sentence of servitude, my kidneys, my first born—you name it, I would have given it up in a heartbeat. No questions asked. But, as I stood there, I couldn't rip my eyes from the pyre before me. I couldn't stop staring at the faces of the people I knew, their screams echoing so loudly in my ears that it hurt. Rachel, Sean, Joan, Roland, my dad, Grandpa, Max… Anyone and everyone that I had ever known or cared about (even remotely) was there in the flames, their faces frozen in terror as they turned to ash.

It's terrible to say but I think it would have been a much easier dream to stomach if the faces of the slain beach-goers had been the ones staring back at me, their eyes silently accusing me of all the horrid acts I hadn't actually committed yet. Thankfully, I suppose, I didn't really remember anything other than that. I know, I know—dreaming about watching everyone you love burn to a crisp shouldn't be something to be thankful about but at least that's _all_ I dreamed. It's a small, morbid and dark consolation but a consolation nonetheless. God only knows what I would do if I remembered what happened to my friends and family _before_ they ended up as kindling. Just thinking about it makes me shudder.

Needless to say, nighttime couldn't have come again fast enough.

When I finally did wake up—about eight hours far too late—it was just after sun set. Fires were burning beyond the canopy that shrouded me from the rest of the cavern. The boys were already up.

Absolutely fan-_frigging_-tastic…

I was hoping that I would have a few minutes alone to get a complete handle on myself before I launched into dealing with the guys. Not only was I covered in a very unattractive sheen of sweat, I was also in pain—as if that was different from any other day. The all-over ache in my muscles was still there, intensified (hopefully only for the moment) because of my poor sleep. Tossing and turning all night—or should I say 'day'? Ugh, no matter how many times I force that out it still sounds weird…— hadn't really done me any favours.

The last thing that I wanted was for my friends (though I didn't really feel comfortable calling them that right now) to see how affected I was by what had happened. I had done a rather good job last night of playing 'cool' when David managed to bring me within seeing-distance of the fire. No one had cracked any jokes at my expense for a whole twenty minutes though I didn't stick around long enough after that to find out if things would change—as soon as we got back to the bluff, I crawled into bed. The boys had continued talking in low whispers for a very long time after that but I couldn't understand what they were saying. Not that it bothered me or anything; the low hum of their voices gave me something to focus on instead of thinking.

Reflecting, now, on what happened the night before, I think my brain stopped working properly between when David said the words 'crazy' and 'vampire'. But, don't get me wrong, that doesn't mean that I didn't hear every word he said. I heard him when he 'told' me—I would use the words 'explained to' but that implies a certain degree of sincerity and depth of feeling that David doesn't consistently possess—that I was turning into a creature that, until now, only existed in horror stories. I heard him when he told me that, if I wanted to stay sane and live 'normally' (HA!), I would have to drink human blood. I also heard him when he said that I would feel better about it tomorrow and that this was really nothing to get upset over.

'Nothing to get upset over' my foot…

Then again, in retrospect, I guess I should take everything that's happened with a grain of salt. I mean, did I not concede to myself only two nights ago that time travel is possible? If I was going to grant myself that, why should it be such a stretch for me to believe that vampires actually exist? And, while I'm still being honest, I should acknowledge the fact that I believed that what David told me was true. Deep down, somewhere in the bottom of my heart, I knew he was being straight with me (for once). Whether I ended up willingly believing him or not, though, was still up for debate.

I mean, if all of this was true—which it undoubtedly was, though it's just _so_ much easier just to pretend like it's not—it begged a lot of questions about David. It wasn't a surprise that he had lied to me about practically _everything_ that came out of his mouth before this; I expected that much from him now. But what was really upsetting was the fact that he had tricked me. How could I possibly trust David now that all of this… _dirty laundry_ had been hung out to bake in the sun? It would be ludicrous for me to trust my sketchy, unbalanced and grim future with him when I couldn't stop second-guessing each word that he spoke. That being said, whether I had a choice to trust him or not was yet another point of contention.

Yeesh. That's way too many things to even _begin_ to think about…

Taking a moment to organize my unruly hair and dab off my face—though for all the good it did me, I shouldn't have tried in the first place—I shuffled to the edge of the bed. My legs and arms held up better than I had expected though they were still very sore. It felt like I had been wrestling with a porcupine in my sleep: my muscles were tight and exhausted while my skin felt like it was full of millions of tiny holes. Not all together and unbearable sensation, per se, but not exactly a great one either.

Slipping out from behind the fabric partition, I quickly put on my socks and shoes. It was a great relief not to immediately fall over when I stood up. My legs complained under my weight but didn't visibly buckle or shake. So far, so good. Walking would be the real test of how I was feeling—which, as I said, wasn't awesome at all—but this was nothing to sniff at. At least, if I _did_ end up falling over or tripping, I was starting to get used to feeling like this all the time.

"Look who's up!" Paul cheered when I stumbled out of bed, massaging my temples. My head didn't really hurt but the sensation was relaxing. It also gave me something to do besides look at the others—like turning my face downward to look at my feet, for instance.

… Why, hello, Shoes. It's been a while since we've last talked, hasn't it?

I could see David, watching me from the stairs, out of the corner of my eye but I didn't look up at him. Just seeing him made me upset in a strange way, like I wasn't sure if I should scream at him or run away crying. Not to mention that just the thought of _glancing_ at him reminded me of what had happened last night. I was afraid that if I met his eyes all I would be able to see was what he had looked like covered in blood.

Maybe if I rubbed hard enough at my head, I could scrub away my memories…

"Why are you so happy?" I grumbled when Paul bounded towards me, wrapping one of his deceptively strong arms around my shoulders. Before I knew what was going on I was sandwiched tightly against Paul's side.

"You won my bet for me," he laughed, squeezing me so tightly that my arms tingled. "How could I not be happy?"

I want to pour bleach directly into my skull. "I thought that was all just a really bad dream," I lied, though the groan behind my voice was genuine.

"Nope," Paul grinned, popping the 'p'. "Face it, bud; you're a freakshow just like the rest of us."

"No one's a freak like you, Paul," Marko laughed, winking at me when I flicked my gaze towards him. "And besides, she's really only _half_ a freak, anyway."

Because that's just what I want to be right now—like all of you. "How lucky for me," I drawled, rolling my eyes.

"You're not jazzed?" Paul asked, sounding oddly hurt.

I didn't bother looking at him. Instead, I wrenched myself out from under his arm and stalked towards the fountain. "Do I look jazzed?" I asked scathingly as the muscles in my back tingled. Apparently, they weren't too happy with me for moving so quickly.

"You should be," Paul grumbled, scooping a pebble off of the floor to throw it at me. "I was."

"Don't lie," Dwayne said flatly. He was leaning against the wall at the mouth of the cave, just behind David. I looked over at him, never letting my eyes drift downwards even though I could feel David watching at me.

"Look who's talking," Marko said pointedly.

Dwayne shrugged, the insult rolling off of him like oil on water. "Exaggerating is different."

"Gets you into just as much crap," Paul sneered, pelting Dwayne with another rock from the ground.

Why do I still get the feeling like I'm the only person here who thinks that what happened last night is somewhat of, oh, I don't know… _a big deal?_ "Look, this is just a lot to digest," I muttered as I sat down on the edge of the circle. The cool tiles of the fountain felt really nice under my hands which were extremely hot, now that I thought about it. "Cut me some slack," I tacked on with minimal energy.

I wish I had woken up sooner; some time to sit and think would have been really nice right about now. I had so many questions that I needed to ask to not only myself, but David as well. Figuring out exactly how to word them so I wouldn't sound pathetically inept and or crazy would have helped to ease the anxiousness that was steadily building in my gut.

"You're such a baby," Paul groaned dramatically as he lined up to toss another stone towards my head.

"I could say the same for you," I grumbled.

"What's that supposed to mean?" he barked back, stopping mid-throw.

I twisted my head slowly to look him, trying to reign in my disbelief. "What do you think it means?"

"Why do you think I'm asking you, genius?"

Kill me now. "… That was a rhetorical question, Paul."

Instead of responding, Paul whipped the stone at my head. I ducked just in time to avoid being hit square between the eyes.

"You prick!" I hissed, glancing around for something to throw back at him. In all probability, even if I did find something, I wouldn't be able to hit him with it—I have horrible aim—but I was so mad that I didn't care.

Paul shrugged, his typical wide grin on his face, when I glared at him—still empty handed, I might add. "Don't hate the player," he laughed.

"Fuck you, Paul."

"Well, if you're offering," he grinned slyly, waggling his eyebrows like a villain from a Vaudeville play.

I had walked right into that one. "What? You think that _you're_ good enough for _me?_" I scoffed, fighting the embarrassed blush that was threatening to come to my cheeks. "In your dreams."

"More often than not," Paul winked.

"You are so disgusting," I groaned, rolling my eyes towards the sky. What in the world is with me tonight? I'm setting myself up for lewd comments left and right. I couldn't possibly be _that_ distracted by everything else that was going on in my head…

"So, are you going to go though with making a kill tonight are you gonna chicken out again, Flic?" Dwayne asked suddenly, his voice cutting clearly through the tiff Paul and I were having.

I looked up at him, unable to keep my shock from registering on my face. "What? Why on earth would you think I'm up for a repeat of yesterday? "

He rolled his eyes, giving me the impression that he felt like he was talking to a kindergartener. "Well you can't expect us to wait forever for you. The sooner you get this over with, the better."

"Hmm, let me think about that one," I said sarcastically. I suppressed a snarky grin when Dwayne frowned at me. "Uh, yeah, I can expect you to wait for as long as I see fit."

"You're over thinking this," he muttered, turning his ire onto the back of David's head. I suddenly got the feeling that I was missing another half of the conversation. The way that Dwayne was focusing on David sent my 'Weird-o-meter' off the charts.

"Well _excuse me_ for not hopping on the bloody bandwagon without a second thought," I snapped back, outrage winning over my temporary surprise at the bluntness of Dwayne's question. "If you recall, I didn't exactly ask for this."

"None of us did," David said plainly, 'So there' practically jumping out and doing a tap dance from between his words.

Furious, I made the mistake of letting my eyes drift down to David's. He was smiling at me—of course— like this was all just a big joke.

"Would saying 'I don't care' be too harsh?" Not that I really mind what you feel, anyway…

"A little bit," he smiled though the laughter in his eyes dimmed noticeably.

That foolish sense of empathy that I felt for David when he seemed upset reared it's ugly head. I really would have rather described it as 'pity' but I would just be lying to myself—_again_. Looking at him had been a very large, regrettable mistake. Casting my eyes back down to my knees, I scowled at my hands as I wrung the hem of my shirt. "Well that's too bad for you then, I guess, because I don't care."

"You're avoiding answering my question," Dwayne said coldly.

"So what if I am? I think we've all established—well, maybe with the exception of Paul—that I'm still out to lunch on this whole 'creature of the night' business." I refused to say the word 'vampire' aloud. It was too strange.

Dwayne and I both ignored the outpouring of profanities that Paul produced because of my snippy retort. It was funnier—well, for me anyway—to listen to him rant in the background.

"Well, I'm hungry," Marko said dully, reminding me ever so slightly of a child complaining to his mom.

"We can't go without Felicia," Dwayne said acridly.

"Don't try and make this _my_ fault," I snapped back, flicking my gaze to Dwayne's cold stare for less than a second. His answering glower sent a shiver up my spine.

"I'm going to blame you because it _is_ your fault," he seethed. Even thought I wasn't looking at him, I could still feel Dwayne's eyes boring into my head like shards of glass.

… Well, if you want _my_ opinion, I would hold _David_ responsible. But that's just me, don't let what I think sway you. "Whatever—" you tool "—I'm not going with you."

"Yes you are," Dwayne growled.

"No, actually, I'm not. If you haven't noticed, I'm not into the whole 'let's all do what David and Dwayne want' thing."

"Fix this, David," Dwayne hissed, finally abandoning arguing with me. As my dad used to say: '_Il ne sert à battre la tête contre un mur de briques_'.

There was a moment of thoughtful silence before David spoke. I had almost risked looking up again to see what his expression was but decided against it just as my eyes started to drift away from the floor. I focused, instead, on his boots.

"You three can take a hike," he said pleasantly.

My gaze instantly snapped up off from David's feet and locked onto his eyes. To say I was just surprised would have been a tremendous understatement. 'Floored' was probably a better word. Since when did David take _my_ side on anything? As soon as the jarring effects of David's statement wore off suspicion flew in to swiftly fill the space left behind. There had to be some ulterior motive for such a selfless decision. And, besides, the _last_ thing I wanted right now was to be alone with David. I would have rather endured an evening alone with Paul than this!

David's grin widened into a full-blown smile when I leered at him, trying to pick out what secrets he was keeping from me. As infuriating as always, his eyes didn't give anything away.

"What?" Dwayne, Paul and Marko all said at once, though their tones were different. Marko was confused, Dwayne insulted and Paul thrilled.

"You heard me," David said tersely, twisting backwards to look at Dwayne. They shared another long glare, leaving me with the feeling that I was missing something again.

"What about you?" Marko asked as Paul pushed him from his seat and across the cavern toward the stairs. Apparently, Paul didn't need to be told twice to get moving.

David turned away from Dwayne and rearranged himself on the stairs before answering. He looked rather pleased and I didn't like it; he was up to something. "I'll be fine—I might catch up with you."

"'Might'," Dwayne scoffed, still mad.

"Stop walking so slow, Marko," Paul grunted as he shoved the smaller boy up the stairs towards Dwayne. "David said get moving, so get moving."

"You're such a dipstick, Paul," Marko growled when Paul forced him over the last step.

"Look who's talking, hoser," Paul beamed, dashing outside before Marko could respond. Once he was gone, Marko and I shared a knowing look. I shrugged sympathetically, as if I say there was nothing that could be done about Paul—which there wasn't; the guy was a lost cause—when Marko rolled his eyes. He gave me a quick wave good-bye and a smile before he, too, ran off. I didn't have time to wave back.

Dwayne glared back and forth between David and I for a moment, like he couldn't make up his mind if he needed to stay or not. "David, I don't think—"

"—It's not your job to think," David interrupted curtly, never looking over his shoulder. He was still staring at me. I, refusing to look back at him, let my eyes wander around the cave, pausing here and there to make it look like I wasn't paying attention. "Just go, Dwayne," he grumbled.

"You have problems," Dwayne hissed before he stalked out of the cave, disappearing into the blackness beyond the glow of the fires.

Just great. That left me all alone with David.

A tense silence fell over the usually lively cavern, the only sounds the crackling of the burning wood and the restless roar of the ocean. I busied myself with counting the stitches along the seams of my jeans instead of trying to make conversation. Not that I didn't have anything to say to David, it just wasn't anything _sociable_.

"Are you just going to sit there and stare at your legs all night?" David asked, his voice back to it's usual sarcastic tone.

"Possibly, yes," I growled. "I don't know if you've noticed or not, but I don't really feel like talking."

He laughed, the sound aggravating my already twitchy temper. "I thought you'd have a little more to say now that we're alone. You did last time."

The funny thing is you have no idea how hilarious you sound right now. I had absolutely no intention of having an intelligent conversation with David—nothing good would come of it. I was too mad at him. "Be careful what you wish for," I snarled, fighting the urge to look up from my knees to glare at him.

"I think I could handle it," he teased, undoubtedly wearing that stupidly attractive half-smirk of his.

… Flic, just… _Ugh._ "Well, bully for you," I sneered down at my shoes.

"Seriously, though, Felicia. Look at me," David said, his voice quickly losing it's playful edge.

I couldn't help but feel smugly satisfied that David was starting to get annoyed. At least he was beginning to understand how I was feeling. "No, I don't think I will," I said, mockingly thoughtful, at I cast my eyes up to the ceiling, sweeping my gaze right over David's face.

"Felicia, stop playing games with me," David said sternly. "This is getting irritating."

So, now that you're not getting your way it's a problem, huh? I see how this works. Talk about ten kinds of pig-headed. Yeah, yeah, okay. I know. It's really hypocritical of me but so what? The only way David ever seems to learn anything is by doing it the hard way and, so far, I seem to be driving my point across rather well. I mean, I just want to be _alone_. If he had really wanted to do me a favour in the first place, he would have left with the others. But _nooo_, he was still sitting across the room from me and ordering me around to boot. I think I'm entitled to use a little bit of harsh sarcasm. "Yeah, having someone toy around with you really is a bitch," I snapped.

"Stop it," he barked. "You don't know what you're talking about."

"_What?_" I snarled back, vitriol practically spewing from my mouth. I was so overcome by anger that I was no longer able to focus on the conversation _and_ keep avoiding David's eyes at the same time—it had to be one or the other. I decided it was more pertinent to keep talking coherently. My eyes fell down towards Davids, meeting his thorny stare with equal distaste.

"I said: 'you don't know what you're talking about'," David repeated frostily, his eyes sparking with rage.

"I don't know what I'm talking about?" I growled, my voice raising a few octaves on the last couple words. "I know damn well what I'm talking about! You've been toying around with me—'_playing games_', as you so accurately put it—since I met you! How do you think I've ended up with the situation I'm in on my plate? If it hadn't of been for you and your stupid little tricks, none of this would have happened!"

"You only know half of the story," David hissed, hurt flashing across his face—the kind of hurt that made my heart ache moronically for his. "You're getting upset over something that isn't my fault."

Even though I was angry—and, oh Hell, was I ever angry—I couldn't help but regret what I had said. If I was honestly going to blame someone for my current problem, it would have to be me; me and my stupid pride. If I hadn't been so concerned with proving myself to David and the others I would still be sitting alone in the office of the abandoned warehouse.

"Who's fault is it, then?" I barked, upset again for allowing a hole to be punctured in my inflating temper. It had felt so good to scream at David a second ago and now I felt guilty for taking my misfortunes out on him. This is so messed up…

A tense silence slammed down like a hammer between us. I didn't realize it until now—I had been too busy being infuriated—but I had curled my hands tightly around the edge of the tiles. So tightly, in fact, that my fingers had gone numb. Unwrapping my digits from around the grout and porcelain, I flexed them tersely and waited for the blood to return to my fingertips.

Never once did I take my eyes off of David's—not even when blood rushed back into my hands with a vengeance. We stared at each other, absolutely mute, for at least two minutes. David looked as though he was searching for something in my eyes as I glowered at him. What it possibly could have been, I'll never know. If I was him, the only thing I would have seen would be hatred of the deepest and blackest kind.

"I can't tell you," David finally muttered, desperate frustration creeping into his bitter tone. His eyes remained hard despite the strange fluctuation in his emotions, like he was thinking about something unpleasant.

I shook my head at him in utter disbelief. After all of this, you think he would have been able to at least give me the courtesy of explaining _whose_ fault it was. "I knew it," I scoffed, both disappointed and callous at the same time. "You are _absolutely_ incapable of telling me the truth!"

"Felicia, that's not true," David hissed, frustrated again, his temperament mercurial as ever.

"Just shut up, David," I spat, furious. "Every word that comes out of your mouth is a lie. Forgive me for not believing you anymore, but it's a lot easier for me that way."

"Oh? And why is that?" he laughed, the sound grating on my nerves.

"I'm a lot less disappointed in the end," I sneered before getting up from the edge of the fountain and stalking across the cavern. I needed to get outside, away from the emotionally charged atmosphere inside the cave. Fresh air would help clear my head and let me put things back into perspective. My legs tingled and snarled from the effort it took to keep up my pace but I pushed through it. I needed to look impressive as I breezed by David, nose stuck in the air, and outside. Sitting around him was doing nothing more than making me more upset.

Once outside and without an audience, I took a less impressive pace when it came to ascending the rickety stairs. My memories of the splinters that I had received after hanging onto the railing were still rather fresh in my mind and, in combination with my dubious strength, I didn't want to repeat them. Taking each step slowly and carefully made it take about double the time it should have to reach the top of the bluff but I made it without a single injury.

As I poked my head over the top of the stairs, I couldn't help but notice how calm it was tonight. No clouds covered the stars or the waning moon and the usual gale-force winds that assailed the top of the bluff had died down to a comfortable breeze. This made it entirely possible for someone—namely, me—to sit and think without having to fear being blown away into the night.

Well, sitting was a lot easier on the legs than walking around in an aimless rage. Okay, so sitting it is.

Stomping towards the farthest edge of the sandy plateau, I plunked my aching, infuriated self down. Shuffling closer to the end of the cliff, I let my legs fall over the edge and hang over the crashing sea below. Even though I wasn't really afraid of somehow managing to fall off, I still curled my fingers around the jagged rock. My life may have been a little… _messed __up_ but that was no reason to risk dying.

Or maybe it was. After all, wasn't I turning into a monster? A monster that drinks blood; a monster that kills indiscriminately; a monster that's detested by everyone and loved by none. Maybe I would be doing the world—and myself—a huge favour if I just flung myself out into the air right now. It would solve a lot of my problems.

I flinched as those thoughts crossed my mind, all traces of my rage quickly washing out of me. No matter how screwed up my life was, it would never be worth killing myself over. Admittedly, nothing this complicated had _ever_ happened to me before even though I had already enjoyed my fair share of misfortunes. I had managed to get through the death of my dad, hadn't I? And what about when Grandpa died a year after that? I survived that, too. Joan marrying Roland was a long, arduous battle but I made it to the other side of that screwed-up union without a scratch. Sure, I had thought about giving up a few times—who wouldn't?—but I didn't, even though God seemed to have it out for me. For years he had been _lobbing_ strife at me incessantly, like he was some schoolyard bully who couldn't get his fill of seeing me upset.

"What did I ever do to you?" I quietly asked of the sky.

"Nothing really, except for the fit you had just now. Why do you ask?" David asked, his smiled shining clearly in his voice, as he sat down next to me. I felt his eyes zero in on mine as he swung his legs easily over the edge of the earth.

Now is the perfect opportunity to say that I think—since approximately three nights ago—that feelings are the most useless thing ever invented. They're not good for anything except for helping others to hurt you or use against you. Honestly, in my opinion, the person who had the first emotion ever recorded should be drug out in the street and shot.

"I need a big sign," I muttered angrily under my breath when butterflies tickled my stomach against my will. David was sitting closer to me than I wanted and, regardless of how hostile I was (or had been…) feeling towards him, I still felt stupidly nervous. So much so, in fact, that one of my rampant thoughts accidentally popped out of my mouth. I didn't look at David when he chuckled—seeing his smarmy grin was one of the last things I needed right now.

"A sign for what?" he asked playfully, trying to fall into our usually less-dour pattern of conversation.

Well, there's no point in trying to pretend like I didn't say anything now; I was too angry for the games David wanted to continue playing. "A sign," I growled, glaring at him out of the corner of my eye, "to put up so you can tell when I don't want company. You're really bad at taking hints."

"It's not that I don't notice, I just ignore them," he teased, still looking at me even though I refused to meet his gaze. The thought of looking into the icy pools of his eyes made more of the stupid butterflies that already crowded my stomach appear.

What I wouldn't have given for a baseball bat to beat my feelings back to wherever they came from… "You'd better start taking them a little more seriously," I snapped, glowering out into space. Two minutes ago, I might have taken a second to admire the sky for a second time. Now, I was wishing with all my heart that the moon would fall from the sky and land on me so I wouldn't have to deal with David. Being crushed to death is an acceptable reason not to talk to someone, right?

"And what if I don't?"

"Something bad will happen and you'll really regret it."

"Like what?'

Oh. My. God. Would you just leave me alone?! "I don't know, I'll punch you in the face or something. Invariably, some part of you _will_ end up broken in one way or another."

"Somehow," he said thoughtfully, finally taking his eyes off of mine, "I don't think you'd actually do that."

"Care to find out?" I challenged blackly, still staring up into the sky. "Because I really don't have a problem arranging that for you."

David laughed so hard that I could feel him shaking against my arm. "Why are you so mad? I told you yesterday that you have nothing to worry about."

… I'm surrounded by morons. Maybe a quick jab to the face would do you some good—it might just knock some sense into you. "You know, for being so freaking perceptive, you really miss the boat a lot," I hissed, his laughter making my temper flare again.

"Maybe I'm just trying to make conversation with you," he said lightly though he didn't sound amused anymore. "Ever think of that?"

I rolled my eyes, trying to ignore the pangs of guilt that stabbed furiously at my anger. It didn't really work but I kept pretending like nothing had changed—which was true enough: I was still moderately upset. "Enough portions of what _used_ to be my reality are already lying in pieces; I'd rather not destroy another small piece. Seeing you as being nice on occasion is already a big enough stretch."

"You're being overly melodramatic," David grumbled, his eyes narrowing dangerously. I stared at him for a second before looking back out to the sea. White caps were breaking far in the distance, highlighted by the streak of moonlight that fanned out across the water. It was really beautiful. Not that it changed the fact that I was angry or anything.

"And you're being overly insensitive, even for you," I snapped, clenching the edge of the cliff so hard that a small shard of rock chipped off into my palm. Prying my fingers away from the edge, I tossed the rock into the ocean.

David watched my every move. When I looked over at him he smiled thoughtfully, his eyes dancing with laughter in the moonlight. "Why are you so mad?"

"Honestly, how many kinds of stupid are you?"

"Felicia," he said flatly, arching an eyebrow at me though he was still smiling.

I shook my head at him in disbelief. "You really don't get it, do you?"

David leaned slightly closer to me, whispering as if he was telling me a secret. "I wouldn't ask if I did."

We fell silent for another moment, staring at each other. The mischief in David's eyes was frustrating—he was treating this like a joke and I really wanted him to be serious. Eventually, I couldn't stand looking at him anymore so I turned back to the ocean, gazing up at the sky to silently search for constellations that I knew.

"It should be obvious why I'm angry," I said finally, my voice falling to a murmur when I found my favourite group of stars: Lepus the Hare. I had always liked that one because of my dad. Like Melany had pointed out, he used to call me 'his little bunny' and, since Lepus is the only rabbit-like animal in the stars, naturally I picked it as my favourite. Whenever we would go to my grandfather's farm in the summer, my dad and I would stay up late to lay in the fields and look at the sky. My dad would always say, as we lay amongst the canola flowers, that, no matter how far apart we were, we really were together because he would always be able to see me in the sky at night.

Now that I was older, I also liked it for another reason. The story behind Lepus is a simple one—Zeus placed the hare in the sky for Orion to give him something to hunt after—but that was what made it all the more special. The hare hadn't done anything 'extraordinary' or 'altruistic' to deserve a place in the heavens; it was just _itself_. It was plain and normal, like me. Well, like I _had_ been, anyway…

"… If this about drinking blood," David said slowly, never once taking his eyes off of mine (even though I was no longer looking at him or had the desire to do so again), " it's really not that bad. Being a vampire isn't as terrible as you're making it out to be. You'll live forever, Felicia." I couldn't help but notice that his voice was slightly sad, like something was bugging him. It was hard to keep myself from turning to look at his expression.

Sure. Killing people really isn't _that_ bad, it just means have to sacrifice everything that makes me, well… _me_. All of my morals, my beliefs, my ideas about who I am. Yeah, it's not that bad at all. "I don't care about living forever, David. I don't care if I can fly—"

"—Which you can," David interrupted casually.

"Whatever, that's not the point. My point is that—wait, what did you say?" I asked, thoroughly confused.

"Weren't you listening?" he smiled, seemingly happy that he had nipped another impending tirade in the bud.

"No," I frowned, "I couldn't hear you over the sound of me being right."

"Ah, I see," David said quietly, the pools of his eyes dancing with laughter. He was still treating this like a huge write off! Jeez, it was so infuriating that he absolutely _refused_ to take me seriously!

"I don't have any patience for jokes, if you haven't noticed," I said coolly. My frown deepened to a glare when David continued to smirk at me, making those pesky butterflies reappear with a vengeance.

David shook his head slowly at me, enjoying a joke that I had quiet obviously missed. "I was being serious, Felicia."

"No, flying is impossible," I said stubbornly. All of this talking was giving me a headache…

"You're talking out of both sides of your mouth," he pointed out. I would say that David didn't sound self-righteous, but that would have been a lie.

"I'm not," I groaned. Since when did this become a conversation about what _I _was doing wrong? Hadn't I been berating David only a second ago?

"So let me get this straight," David said pointedly. I felt my face fall when he started speaking again. "I can tell you vampires exist, that you're half-way to becoming one and that you're going to stay twenty-one forever, but the second I throw flying into the mix that's impossible?" The smirk that was playing on David's lips exploded into a full-blown grin when he finished. He had backed me into a corner using my own words.

This is just unbelievable! "Stop!" I screamed, grabbing two handfuls of my hair and yanking. The sudden burst of pain helped me to focus on what I had been trying to say before. I wanted—_needed_—to bring the focus of my anger back onto David and away from myself. "What I'm upset about has nothing to do with _any_ of this!" I growled, frustrated.

"I find that hard be believe," he drawled, still silently laughing at me.

"Well, yeah, okay it does. In a round-about way, sure, but _whatever_," I rushed, cramming my eyes shut in frustration as I gave my hair another slight tug. "That's not what's important. What's really choking me is that you lied about all of this, David! To my face, no less! All you _ever_ do is lie to me."

"What would you have liked me to do?" he said loudly, finally sounding as furious as I felt. "Tell you everything right from the start? Ask you for your permission?"

"You make that sound like a _bad_ thing," I scoffed, one of my eyebrows disappearing into the mess of my bangs.

"You wouldn't have said yes if I asked!" David roared so loudly that I jumped.

… Well when you've got a point, you've got a point. "You're right! But you should have anyway," I screamed back, turning to glare at him. A moment of tense silence passed between us as we stared into each others eyes, the only sound the crashing of the surf below. David's face was set in a heavy frown, giving him that ancient look I had seen him wear before. The only difference now was that I understood why.

"How old are you?" I asked quietly, leery of his answer. I was suddenly unsure if I really wanted to know. Not that I was going to run away screaming or anything, I was honestly past the point of being freaked out. After everything that had happened over the past two nights, I was beginning to believe that anything was possible.

David's face softened slightly as I spoke, though he still looked old and exhausted. A chill ran up and down my spine as he searched my eyes, like he was looking down to the bottom of my soul. "I'm old enough," he eventually muttered, looking away to the horizon.

"I didn't know time is measured relatively now," I said blandly. "Because, in that case, I'm not old enough to put up with your bullshit."

"Why can't you just leave well enough alone?" he hissed sideways at me, scowling again.

"Why can't you give me a straight answer?" I fired back immediately, completely content to play the 'Lets See Who Takes the Longest to Actually Answer a Question' game.

A hint of a smile came to David's mouth but it didn't reach his eyes which, in the full force of the moonlight, looked like blocks of ice. "Why don't you trust me?"

The next question I had lined up failed in my throat, coming out as a strangled mix between a yelp and a gasp. I hadn't expected him to say something like that—maybe, I had thought, he would ask why I was so stubborn or say something equally nasty about my personality—and it threw me off. It was strangely embarrassing for him to throw that out in the open, leaving me slightly dazed. I didn't know what to say.

"What?" he asked, his voice frigid and pained. "You don't have an answer?"

"Of course I do!" I barked, using anger to hide the blush that was coming to my cheeks.

"Well… ?" David pressed, obviously forcing himself to sound playful. His eyes were still drawn tight, the smile that had threatened his lips replaced by another frown.

I bit down hard on my lip, debating whether I should say something. More than anything, I wanted to get through to David how upset I was with him but, in the same breath, I didn't. "Because," I said quietly, my tone bordering between shy and furious, "you took what little faith I had in you and used it against me! How can I possibly trust you when you've given me nothing but reasons _not_ to? First," I continued to rant, "you lie to me about _everything_ under the freaking sun and then you take advantage of me—in more ways than one, I might add!"

"You should trust me because you have no other choice," David spat, hurt flashing across his face even though his voice remained icy and spiteful.

"There's always a choice," I murmured, looking out to sea for the n-th time that night.

"And what's your decision, then?" David muttered, his voice sad under the frost.

"I don't know yet," I replied softly. "I have to think about it."

No matter how many times I scrutinized the waves or the black shapes of the rocks in the bay or the moon as it moved across the sky, I was still struck by how beautiful it was. The world was a different place at night—one that was sultry and amazing and _so_ much simpler. There was light and dark, black and white, the moon and the stars, the earth and sky and that was it. No colours, no confusion. I found myself wishing that life was like this all the time, so straight-forward and easy to understand. Maybe then I would be able to work out where I stood in the middle of this mess.

David and I sat quietly at each others side for a long time, just watching the world go by. It was nice.

Many hours later, David turned to me and spoke. His face was much calmer now, more like it usually was—his eyes sparkled with their usual mischief and his lips were tied up in their usual smirk. Apparently, I wasn't the only one who had done a little bit of thinking during the lull in conversation. "The sun will start to rise in an hour. Are you going to come inside with me?"

"No," I said thoughtfully as I tore my eyes from the sea and down to the ground. Where I previously hadn't had a shadow, a pale lavender outline of my body was forming around me; we really had sat outside all night. "I think I'm going to stay out for a while longer," I explained quietly when I felt David's shoulder sag against my arm. "I need some more time to think."

"The light will hurt your eyes," he warned as he picked himself easily up off the ground.

"I know," I sighed as I listened to David brush the dirt and debris off of his coat and jeans. "I don't care."

"Suit yourself," he muttered quietly before walking away. I turned to watch him leave over my shoulder but he was already gone.

And so, completely alone for the first time since I woke up, I sat there and thought as I waited for the sun to find me.


	12. Chapter 12

**_Author's Notes:_**

_Hello again everyone!_

_Just wanted to post a quick thank you (again) for all of the wonderful reviews! I really don't want to give anything away with regard to the story so I'll just say that you (hopefully) won't be left disappointed by the end. :)_

_As always I don't own the rights to the Lost Boys._

_Enjoy Chapter Twelve—No. Thirteen shouldn't be far behind._

_Sincerely,_

_Amaryllidinae_

* * *

**Twelve**

TAKE A SECOND TO imagine the most horrible kind of pain that you can. I don't mean to sound overly sensational but, please, just play along with me on this one. Maybe you're envisioning something relatively mundane like stepping on a nail, breaking a bone or trapping a finger in a door. Or, perhaps, you're feeling slightly more imaginative. Something like, oh, I don't know… being crushed in a vice lined with spikes or having acid-coated bamboo splinters shoved under your nails may have popped into your head. Whatever you've come up with, think about how terrible of an experience it would be and give that feeling a rating on a scale of zero to one-thousand.

Now, multiply that score by one-million and add that to the most absurdly large number you can think of.

Congratulations. You now know exactly what it feels like to be a half vampire—like me (though I'm still not particularly comfortable lumping myself into that category…)—who's foolish enough to stay outside at dawn.

To be honest, it didn't think staying out in the sun was going to be _that_ bad. Well at first, anyway, but that was before I had actually tried it. I mean, I wasn't stupid enough to actually _turn around_ and watch the sun come over the horizon but, thinking about it now, I might as well have. The difference would have been inconsequential in the end.

Things started out alright. Like David had said, after another hour of sitting in relative darkness, my eyes started to hurt. The change in the light would have been unnoticeable to humans—am I technically allowed to say that?—but I could see (and feel) the difference. Regardless, a little unpleasant stinging seemed like a bearable consequence for the chance to watch the world change.

After only nine days of staying awake at night and sleeping during the day, I was already bewildered by how vibrant everything was in the sun. Maybe it was because my eyes were sore but all the colours seemed too bright, the textures too loud. All of the things that I had taken for granted just over a week ago appeared… _off_. Wrong, even. It was a weird feeling to know that I had changed so much in such a short time without ever knowing it.

I didn't really have a chance to think about that, though. Because, very shortly after, things got worse. _Much_ worse. I went from being uncomfortable in the pre-dawn light to holding myself to the ground as soon as the sun crested over the forest behind me. Each ray of light (no matter how diffused) was a tiny white-hot needle, burning, stinging and poking simultaneously at my eyes. Blinking only made it worse—each short reprieve from the light only made the sensation intensify, like I was experiencing it anew. And the sad part is, that description really doesn't do the sensation justice.

Just remember: it's like enduring the worst pain you can imagine times one-million plus an absurd number.

I only lasted about fifteen minutes after the sun popped up off of the horizon. I tried to watch the empty sky over the ocean change from navy-black to deep purple then to shades of lavender and pink but I just couldn't keep my eyes open. Disappointed and desperate, I had bolted across the bluff and down the stairs stopping only when I had my face buried under a mountain of pillows.

Please, don't bother asking me why I didn't immediately go inside because I don't have the slightest idea. It would have been the _smart_ thing to do but it's become painfully obvious (ha ha ha…) that I'm diametrically opposed to doing 'smart' things. I mean, come on: I've fallen in with vampires. How much closer to stupid can you get?

… Oh. Wait… Never mind.

But, in the same breath, I supposed that staying 'up' was an important mistake to have made. Because, for all of the 'deep-thinking', 'scenario-positing', 'option-weighing' and 'choice-not-making' I had done over the course of the evening, nothing really drove home what was happening to me like almost having my retinas seared into oblivion.

It didn't take long after I was safely tucked away in bed for me to fall asleep; I was immediately overcome by exhaustion when I was no longer focused on the intense pain in my eyes. In my last few moments of coherent thought, I told myself that, no matter what decision I came to, I had to make one fast. My body was changing faster than I could keep up with, whether I liked it or not. I was either going to have to come up with a solution to make living like this much easier or… give in.

I swore I heard someone laughing just before I slipped under but, then again, I could have just been imagining it.

Actually, speaking of imagination, I had a mercifully peaceful sleep. For the first time since I can remember, I didn't dream. Not a single thing; no sounds, no messed up rehashes of old memories, no faces. I just fell asleep and woke up later. Well, okay, maybe I _did_ dream but it wasn't anything that I could recall. And, then again, maybe I didn't want to remember. If I had dreamed anything like what I had last night, it was perfectly alright with me that I had no memory of it. No one should be subjected to seeing something like that once, let alone twice.

When I finally woke up the next night the boys were already up—of course they were, when were they not?—so there was no point in laying around. Once I was sitting, I realized that the relief I had felt yesterday from the severe all-over aches and pains was temporary. My arms tingled ferociously as I pulled myself toward the edge of the mattress, the feeling quickly spreading though my body as I went. By the time I had placed my feet on the floor, my back was constantly in spasm and every other part of me felt like it was on fire.

"Are you okay?" Marko asked, peeking around Paul to look at me.

I checked my expression, making sure that I was composed. It was of paramount importance that I didn't let the others see what a terrible state I was in—if they did, I would probably have more 'help' forced on me and I had a feeling that, this time, David wouldn't let me have a say in the matter. Satisfied that I seemed normal on the outside, I nodded. "Yeah, I'm fine," I muttered, forcing a smile when the others turned to look at me. As I pushed myself away from the safety of the blankets and pillows, my legs threatened to buckle out from under me. I managed to hold my muscles in check before anything noticeable happened.

Ugh, this was going to be another long night.

As much as I hated to admit it, Dwayne was right; something _was_ wrong with me. I mean, being in this much pain _all the time_ can't be normal! David had said the other night that, if I 'fed'—and I'm using his words, not mine; I would never say something like that—I would feel better. So, I could only assume that, since I've so far managed to abstain from a liquid diet, I was feeling so shitty because I was hungry. But even if that was the case, David didn't look like he was having any trouble standing. He had stayed with me all night and, unless I had missed something when I was away from him, he didn't have time to run and grab a bite to eat—terrible pun _not_ intended.

Sucking in a deep breath, I walked towards the others as they milled around the fountain. Marko and Dwayne were sitting on the edge of the circle with Paul and David standing in front of them. It looked like they had been having an important discussion before I interrupted.

"What's up?" I asked casually, stopping just outside of their little pow-ow. To keep myself from focusing on how wobbly my legs were I ran my fingers through my hair, segmenting it so I could braid it. I was still without a hair brush and this way I wouldn't look like a creature that had just stepped out of a bush.

David watched me intently, his eyes focusing on my hands as they flitted through the locks of my hair. "We're going out," he said matter-of-factly, his voice more terse than usual. He smiled apologetically when I arched an eyebrow at him.

Well someone most definitely woke up on the wrong side of the bed. "I see," I placated, wrapping the elastic from my wrist around the rope of my hair. "Where, exactly, are you dragging me off to?"

"Oh, so now you want to come with us?" Dwayne asked pointedly. He flashed me a strained smiled when David cleared his throat.

"It depends on where we're going," I repeated curtly, ignoring David. My hands tingled as I smoothed the finished plait over my shoulder. Simply doing my hair had been enough to make my knuckles ache.

"Does it matter?" Dwayne asked, watching me as I absently massaged each of my fingers. The pressure made the throbbing lessen slightly though it never actually went away.

"Would I ask if it wasn't important?" I smiled, my voice so sweet it was edging on being snide.

"Well, you _do_ ask a lot of stupid questions," he teased, still being strangely civil. Like last night when David had told the others to leave, I got the feeling that Dwayne was in on something that I wasn't.

I am _so_ not in the mood for this… "David, where are you planning on going?"

"You ask too many questions," Paul laughed, prodding me with his elbow. Even though the nudge had been relatively gentle—which is saying a lot since it came from Paul—my arm felt as if someone had broken a two-by-four over it. There was no doubt in my mind that it would bruise.

"No one ever tells me anything," I complained, resisting the urge to rub my newest sore spot, "I have to ask questions if I want to keep up."

"Good luck with that," Marko laughed, pushing me on my other side.

What am I—a punching bag? Stop touching me! "Keep your hands to yourself; you guys are creeping me out," I muttered, biting my tongue when my left elbow started pounding where Marko had touched it. It was also bruising and quickly.

Screw becoming a vampire, I'm turning into a peach!

"We're going to the boardwalk for a while," David chuckled when Paul and Marko pushed me again at the same time. It took all that I had to keep from falling backwards. "Do you feel up to it?"

"Of course I do," I growled, glaring at Paul as he muscled himself in next to Marko. The two of them high-fived when they were sure I was watching.

"Are you sure?" David asked, suppressing a laugh. Apparently he, too, found pushing me around to be especially hilarious.

… I really know how to pick men.

"Don't ever second guess me," I said coolly, turning my anger on him. "If I say I'm fine, then I'm fine."

"Good. Let's go," he smiled, gesturing towards the exit. Paul, Marko and Dwayne hopped up immediately and ran out of the cavern, pushing and tussling with each other as they went. I hung back, waiting for David to go first but he didn't move. I wanted to be the last one to navigate a path up the stairs so no one would notice if I tripped. So far, I had been doing a good job of appearing like nothing was wrong with me; I didn't want to ruin that because of a stupid flight of stairs.

"Are you just going to stand there?" I asked impatiently, crossing my arms. The quick movement aggravated my new bruises. "Go."

"You first," he chuckled, flashing me that attractive half-smirk of his. It touched his eyes in a mischievous way, like he knew what I was trying to do.

Sometimes, David, you're too smart for your own good. "Do you really want to argue about this?" I demanded, exasperated. Why can't anything I want _ever _go right?

"Not really," David smirked. I swore that, if I looked hard enough, I could see feathers sticking out of the corner of his mouth. "Ladies first."

"Please," I scoffed, angry that he refused to budge. "Acting like a gentleman doesn't suit you."

David shrugged, my insults less effective than usual. "Trying never hurt anyone."

"Well stop it," I growled. I really didn't want to have to climb the stairs first but it was looking like, if I didn't, we wouldn't be going anywhere.

"What are you guys doing down there?" Marko called from outside, his voice faint. He and the other two boys were still waiting for us—however impatently—at the top of the bluff.

"Yeah!" Paul called, his tone far more annoyed that Marko's. "I'm getting old! HURRY UP!"

"Like Hell you are," Marko exclaimed at Paul. The rest of their argument was swept away by the roar of the ocean and wind.

"Go, David," I urged, flicking my eyes nervously to the mouth of the cavern.

David paused a moment as I continued to stare at him, placing a hand thoughtfully at his chin. "Nah," he smiled polietly, clearly enjoying the little game he had created, "you first." His chuckled loudly when I frowned at him.

You, David, are the world's biggest jerk. "Fine!" I hissed, turning on my heel and stomped away. My legs protested and trembled at I took the five steps up to the exit, threatening to buckle at any second.

Well this is just great. How on earth am I going to make it up the second staircase?! It's nearly six times larger than the little rinky-dink flight inside of the cave!

I paused at the foot of the very steep and very rickety stairs that hugged the wall of the cliff, anxiously trying to figure out a solution to my problem. There wasn't a doubt in my mind that I was going to trip and fall halfway up. The question now, was, how to avoid being seen—which was why I had wanted to go up last to begin with.

"What are you waiting for?" David asked quietly from behind me, making me jump. I had been so busy trying to figure a way not to embarrass myself that I hadn't heard him walk up.

"You," I said flatly, glaring at him over my shoulder. He smiled cheerfully and motioned for me to go ahead. I didn't move.

"You could always just jump if you feel too lazy to—"

"—I'm not lazy," I interrupted loudly, throwing him a dark glare.

"Still," he placated, still smiling triumphantly. "You _could_ just jump to the top."

I glanced up at the top of the bluff which was five-hundred feet away and then back to David. "You've got to be kidding me," I said blandly.

"Nope," he chuckled. "Remember what I said last night?"

"I'm pretending like that conversation never happened," I muttered obstinately, fighting the urge to smile when David rolled his eyes. "I'm taking the stairs."

"Suit yourself," he sighed, exasperated.

Ugh, this is going to be terrible I just know it.

Gritting my teeth together so hard that they hurt, I put my nose slightly in the air and took to the stairs. David followed close behind me like a second shadow, his pleasure at my misfortune practically smacking me in the back of the head.

I had made it up the first six stairs before my legs warned me that they were getting tired. My knees started tingling first and were followed quickly by my ankles. Not longer after that, my calves started to feel weak.

Shit, shit, shit, shit, shit…

I cast a wary look over at the railing debating whether I should grab onto it. David was just a step or two behind me so, if I fell, I would take him out with me. Not as if to make it sound like that was a bad idea—it served him right—but it would still be extremely embarrassing. Not even knocking David down a flight of stairs was worth bruising my pride. Another handful of splinters didn't really seem like a great prospect either, though.

And, yes, I know exactly how that sounds. Get over it.

"Something the matter?" David asked nonchalantly as we continued to ascend. He was doing a very poor job of keeping the smile from his voice.

No, I'm _fine_; my legs feel like they're going to give out on me but it's nothing to worry about—you'll break my fall. "No, why do you ask?" I grumbled, making it successfully up another five stairs.

"Just because," he chuckled. "How are you feeling?"

"Why does everyone keep asking that?" I muttered under my breath, trying to keep from scowling. Four steps later and I was just over halfway up the staircase. "And if you say 'just because' one more time I'll kick you," I tacked on when I heard David laugh again.

"Because they can," he said playfully.

You are extremely lucky that I like the way your face looks. "I see," I growled, pushing my protesting muscles up another five stairs. Only ten left… "I hope you're enjoying yourself back there," I muttered acridly when David fell eerily silent.

"Never thought of that, but, now that you mention it…" he trailed off blithely.

Why did I open my big mouth? "Men," I cursed, blushing a deep shade of scarlet despite myself.

I made it up five more stairs before my legs decided they had endured enough of me. Just as I lifted my left leg up to place it on the next step, my right ankle gave out causing my raised foot to catch on the plank instead of landing on it. Luckily, I realized what was going on before I fell flat on my face and reached out to grab hold of the railing. The effort was wasted on my part, though, because David already had a hold of me by the waist. His hands were fastened securely on either side of me, supporting my entire weight.

"Careful," he said lightly into my ear, gingerly pulling me upright.

I blushed deeply as nervousness tickled at heart, sending my pulse racing. David had obviously been a lot closer behind me than I had thought. "Let go of me," I mumbled, detaching my hand from the treacherous railing to pry at his fingers.

"You gonna to be okay if I do?"

"Would you _please _stop asking me that?!"

"What if I don't?"

"Like I said yesterday: I'll make you regret it."

"I'd like to see you try," David laughed, finally taking his hands off of me. I didn't feel it until the pressure was gone, but he had just given me a couple of fresh bruises.

"And you're a… a _lecher_," I snapped, struggling for an insult to throw back at him as I hurried up the last few stairs. My legs fought with me the whole way. I would have liked to have taken a little rest at the top of the bluff but the others were watching. Dwayne, Marko and Paul were seated on their motorcycles, the engines idling quietly under the roar of the sea.

"Finally," Paul called, motioning for David and I to hurry up. "Let's get moving, David!"

"You'd better hurry up," David called to me, his eyes sparkling like flames as he walked over to his Triumph. I followed glumly, dreading hopping on behind him.

Choking down a large portion of my pride as David straddled the silver and black beast, I waited until he motioned for me to get on. It took a little effort but I was eventually able to beat back the sense of pleasure that snaking my arms around him inspired.

"Ready?" he said, glancing back at me with a bigger smile on his face than usual.

"Always am," I muttered, turning my face away as I started to blush.

"Good. Hold on—if you can," David chuckled before he turned the engine over and took off towards town.

I don't know if it was because I was so exhausted from walking so much, but it felt like we made it to the boardwalk much quicker than usual. After parking the bikes in the farthest corner of the parking lot, we walked through the cars towards the lights and noise. That was when I realized how bad of an idea this was; I could barely walk and now I was going to willingly throw myself amongst thousands of inconsiderate people. This was a recipe for disaster.

"I'm not sure this is a great idea anymore," I muttered under my breath to David. Not that I thought it was a fabulous plan to begin with or anything…

"Don't worry, you'll be fine," David said, equally quiet as we came up to the archway over the west boardwalk entrance. People were milling around as always, clumped in tight pockets where they weren't walking together in endless torrents. My legs hurt just thinking about trying to dive into the crowd.

"Now," David said calmly, his eyes quickly scanning the crowd in the time it took for me to draw a breath to start complaining, "look for someone you like."

"What?" I asked, dumbfounded. The last thing I wanted right now was to try and hook up with someone.

"Just do it," Dwayne said absently from behind me. When I looked over my shoulder at him, he, too, was letting his eyes drift back and forth across the sea of people like he was searching for one person in particular.

David laughed quietly under his breath before patting me on the shoulder. " Take your time and look."

"But, I-I—" I stuttered nervously when David grinned down at me.

"—Don't worry, Felicia," Marko interrupted from my left, "you'll know when you see them."

See _who?_ I don't even know who I'm looking for! "I've decided something," I muttered to David as he pushed me every so slightly into the crowd. Despite the fact that I had no idea what I was doing or _why_ I was doing it, I let my eyes drift over the faces in the crowd.

"And what is that?" David said from my left, his voice pleasant and full of a smile. He seemed to be enjoying himself more than I would have expected.

"You're insane," I shrugged, still scanning the faces of the people around me. "Just thought I would throw that out there." Everywhere I looked there were people. The only problem was that they all looked exactly the same. Okay, so maybe that's a bit of an _over_ generalization but it was practically true. It probably didn't help that I had no idea what I was looking for but, from what I could see, there wasn't anyone special out tonight.

"I thought you said I was a lecher?" David responded, smirking down at me when I took a second to toss him another look. He laughed outright when he noticed my sarcastically disapproving stare. "Your words, not mine."

"You're a lot of things," I smiled back, unable to help myself. "I'm just trying to make sure that ego of yours is kept in check." Sometimes, being with David was so incredibly _easy_ and others… Well, lets just say I would have rather swallowed a cyanide-coated razor blade than deal with him. It was enough to send any normal person reeling from confusion.

"Look who's talking," he teased, motioning for me to pay attention to the people in front of me instead of him.

"I'm tenacious, not egotistical," I muttered as I went back to looking from face to boring face. There was a woman with short, scraggly black hair; a young boy with a face so covered in freckles he looked brown; an older man with a perfectly quaffed shock of white hair… All of them were _so_ uninteresting. Just every day, normal Joes and Janes.

"Hm. Interesting choice of words."

I registered somewhere in the back of my head that David had made a response but I wasn't really paying attention. I was too busy staring at a strawberry-blonde man in a pale blue T-shirt. He was sitting about twenty-five yards away on an elevated stool outside of a burger joint.

I had just been looking around innocently at first, stealing quick peeks at the people who passed by me, not looking for anything (or anyone) in particular. It had been an accident, actually, when I let my gaze slip farther back into the crowd; there had been a lull in the torrent of people just as we passed by the restaurant. Letting my eyes sweep automatically over the people sitting there I was surprised when I did a double-take to look back at one man in particular. He was sitting three seats in from the left side of the counter and talking boisterously with the men at his sides.

There was just something _different_ about him, something strangely intriguing. I couldn't put my finger on it quite yet, but he had that special something. It was impossible to stop staring. I examined every detail about him repeatedly—the long, shaggy hair cut; the loose-fitting clothes; the naturally toned physique; the strong curve of his shoulders—looking for what made him so special.

I hadn't realized that I had stopped walking until Marko laughed happily, clapping his hands together for effect. The sudden, loud sounds brought me out of the whirlwind of my thoughts.

"Flic is better at this than I thought!" he joked, the light slap he gave me enough to make another bruise appear on my tender shoulder. "She's picked a guy with friends."

What do you mean, 'picked'? I just looked at the guy!

I glanced to each of the boys, letting my eyes linger on David's when no one else gave an explanation. "What do you mean?" I asked, feeling absolutely moronic when they all laughed.

"How do you feel about that guy?" David asked coyly, like he was making an innuendo but… not. The glint in his eye sent the wrong kind of shivers up and down my spine.

"I don't know," I muttered, casting the strawberry-blonde man a quick glance. Just looking at him made my stomach twist again with nervous excitement. "Weird, I guess," I tacked on quietly.

"Weird in what way?" David pressed with a pleased smirk.

Why do I feel like I'm in fifth grade and telling the cutest guy in the class that I have a crush on him? "Like… anxious and… a little antsy… and kinda tingly all over, now that I think about it."

… Yes. Your diction is astoundingly tremendous, Flic. Bravo.

I blushed a deep shade of ruby when the guys laughed again. It took all of the strength I had left to keep from burying my face in my hands. "Stop laughing at me," I mumbled before chomping down apprehensively on my lower lip.

"Stop it," David said sternly to the others though his eyes were still full of humor when he looked down at me again. "Look at him again," he instructed, glancing away from me in the direction of the burger bar. "What do you want to do with him?"

Because _that _didn't sound sexual at all. "I beg your pardon?" I asked callously.

"Just gimme an answer," David sighed, rolling his eyes when I glared at him.

I stared at David for a moment before letting my head turn back towards the restaurant. When my eyes locked on the intriguing man's back, I tried to think very hard about what David had asked me to. At first, I couldn't get past the funny way I felt when I saw the stranger. But, as I thought about it, I realized that there were actions attached to my feelings like, when I felt excited, I wanted to run over and be near him. Inversely, when I felt anxious, I felt like I need to follow him so he wouldn't leave the boardwalk without me. And the tingling sensation was actually a primal sense of desire—I needed to smell the natural perfume of his hair; I needed to feel the heat of the air around him; I needed to taste his skin…

I wanted to kill him.

"Well," David asked slowly, breaking my concentration.

"I don't—I don't know," I stammered, confused by my own internal conclusion.

"Do you want to kill him?" David whispered, his voice a purr of excitement.

"Yes—_no!_" I answered, correcting my automatic response as soon as it popped out of my mouth. Horrified, I clamped my eyes shut and placed my hands on either side of my head as if it was going to explode. All of this was just too much to take, even for me. "I don't know!" I cried, desperate.

Paul chuckled loudly, pushing Marko playfully on the shoulder. "I told you so, dude! She totally wants to."

"Shut up, man," Marko groaned, the sound distracting me enough so that I could open my eyes again. "I don't have your money," he growled, shoving Paul away when he noticed me watching.

Paul smiled his usual wide grin and shrugged effortlessly. "You still owe me from the other night; I'll add it to that."

Dwayne rubbed his hands together excitedly, drawing my attention away from Marko and Paul. Like David he was also looking over at the man in the blue shirt and, every so often, stealing glances at the two men next to him. "Alright! Now you just need to lure him away from the others, Flic. It shouldn't be too hard—you're good looking and he doesn't seem too smart."

Thanks so much for that _gracious _compliment… "Do I look like a fishing lure? Because, the last time I checked, I don't," I snapped, glaring at Dwayne. "I'm not going to openly solicit myself to a stranger."

"We're not asking you to try and get horizontal with him," Dwayne sighed, frustrated. "Just get him interested and take him away somewhere. We'll deal with his pals once you're gone and catch up with you."

"I don't know," I said slowly, eyeing the strawberry-blonde man again. "I don't think I can."

"Just try," David said impatiently.

"I… I… I," I repeated stupidly, trying to come up with an excuse to get out of going over there. For, as wrong as I knew it was, it was getting harder to stay in one place.

"You what?" David growled, a deep frown furrowing his brow.

"I need a moment to think," I said quickly, sounding almost apologetic.

David looked down at me like I was every inch the imbecile I felt like. "Well, think then."

"I mean _alone_," I clarified. Shame hit me like a freight train when David rolled his eyes and looked away. He fell silent for a moment, deep in thought.

"Fine," he hissed eventually before going back to watching the three men seated at the restaurant.

"Stay here so I know where to find you," I said sternly, glaring up at David when I realized he was no longer paying attention to me. "Are you listening?"

"Yes," he said, a little too quickly. "Go."

"Whatever," I grumbled, breaking away from the guys and into the passing crowd. I had to fight to keep my own as I walked farther east; there was a washroom in this direction, if I remembered correctly, which was exactly what I needed. Cold water seemed like the perfect thing to help me think clearly.

A minute or so later I finally found the bathrooms. There wasn't a line up to get inside so I quickly slipped through the door marked "Ladies". The space was mercifully devoid of people so I had my choice of amenities. Walking over to the middle sink, I turned on the tap and gathered water in my hands. It burnt, of course, when I stuck my hands under the faucet but the water was icy-cold as I splashed it on my face.

I struggled to hold back a gasp when I looked up and saw my dripping-wet face in the mirror.

You would think that for all the sleeping I did I wouldn't look half bad but that wasn't the case. My eyes were sunken and tired-looking making the usually vibrant colour of my irises dull and flat. Shadows 'graced' my cheeks making them look shallow and thinner than usual. In fact, it looked like I had lost about ten pounds because my face was so gaunt. To add onto that, there was no colour in my skin any more; instead of being creamy-pale my complexion was bordering on sickly-white.

"Oh my God," I muttered, gingerly touching the lavender circles under my eyes and then the bruise-like shadows on my cheeks, "I look like a skeleton."

How long have I looked like this? Had it really been so long since I had seen myself in a mirror? Thinking back, the last time that I clearly remembered seeing my own reflection was the second day that I had spent in Santa Carla. I had walked down to the beach to browse the stalls and stopped to fix my hair. There was no way on earth that I could have changed so much in the seven days since then.

Looking this way and that in the mirror, I tried to make my reflection improve. But, no matter what I way I turned, I still looked like a wraith.

"You okay, darlin'?"a happy voice burdened by a heavy southern accent trilled from behind me. I jumped, turning around immediately when the woman spoke; I had been so focused on the mirror that I hadn't heard the plump and very happy red-headed woman enter the washroom. "Ya' look like ya' just seen a ghost!"

You have no idea. "No, I'm fine," I said absently, busying myself with washing my hands when she walked up to the sink next to me. I didn't want her to have a chance to meet my eyes in the mirror and the new wave of pain in my hands was definitely something to focus on. "You just startled me."

"Sorry 'bout that," she apologized pleasantly, toying with her hair in the mirror. "Sometimes I find I'm just too darn quiet for my own good!"

For some reason I find that extremely hard to believe.

Abandoning the sink, I shuffled over to grab a paper towel and dry off my hands and face. I waited until the woman was fishing around in her purse before I came back to the mirror. Maybe if I put down my hair it wouldn't look so bad…

"So, where abouts are you from?" the woman chattered over the clanking and shuffling of the items in her bag.

"Up north," I answered automatically as I yanked the elastic out of my hair and wrapped it back around my wrist.

The woman laughed, the sound reminding me of twittering birds. "You'll have to be a little more specific than that, honey. There's a lot of states up north—there's Idaho and Washington and Montana…"

Good grief, why are you so nosey? "Uh, Montana," I fibbed as I ran my aching fingers through my braid, untangling the locks so that they hung slightly in my face—I didn't want the woman to be able to see me.

"Oh really?!" she said excitedly, abandoning her purse to focus on me. "I have family up there! My sister, Josephine, lives in Billings with her husband, Ray, and their two kids—Kevin, he's six, and Patricia, she's nine," she continued, waiving the tube of lipstick she had in her hand around as she talked. Apparently, she had forgotten about it. "We go up there every winter for Christmas. What city are you from?"

Of course, I pick the one state that this woman has family in. "I'm from Billings, too," I muttered, toying with my hair. It didn't make my face look any better—actually it made it much worse. The dark brown colour caused the shadows on my cheeks to look deeper and my eyes to seem even more flat. There was no getting around it: I looked terrible no matter what I did.

"Funny ol' world, isn't it?" the woman smiled as she stashed her unused lipstick back into her purse. "But I've gotta get goin', love. My husband's waiting for me outside."

"It was nice meeting you," I lied.

"You too, deary. Buh-bye!"

"Bye," I whispered as she scooted out of the washroom, humming a song I didn't know loudly to herself.

"I have to get out of here," I muttered to my frazzled reflection once I was alone again. The real question was how was I going to get away from David?

It would have surprised me if the four of them had followed me over to the washrooms and were waiting outside; I didn't trust David's word as far as I could throw him. So, if he and the others were just outside of the doors what was I going to do? It wasn't like I could just… _go back_ to them. I didn't want to have to take another look at the man who was unknowingly waiting for me. I mean, I looked absolutely frightening! Not to mention I was afraid that, if I got any closer to the strawberry-blonde man, I wouldn't be able to keep myself from hurting him.

That was all great, but that still left me without a plan.

Okay, so if they _were_ waiting outside for me, I would have to come up with a contingency plan on the fly, there really was no other option. If not—which was highly unlikely—I would simply take a detour and head off the boardwalk. Where I would go after that I had no clue.

Stealing one last horrifying glance in the mirror, I took in a deep breath and headed towards the exit. I paused before pushing the heavy red door open with both hands, dreading what was waiting for me on the other side.

Amazingly enough, it turned out to be nothing—nothing but a swarm of people that I didn't know. David and the others were still far out of sight, obviously still waiting for me across from the burger bar.

Well that was lucky, not to mention totally unexpected and unusual.

I was so taken aback by my sudden stroke of good fortune that I didn't know what to do. I stood there, gaping around like a fish, for at least a minute before I remembered what I was supposed to be doing.

Slipping into a passing group of girls, I headed towards the east exit. The speed at which the people around me were walking was harrowing—I felt exhausted just trying to keep up with them—but I managed to push through. There would be time to relax later; I had to focus on getting as far away from the boardwalk as possible.

Breaking away from the girls when they stopped to mill around the carousel, I made my way past the last few shops and rides before stumbling out onto the crowded parking lot. I remembered the way out of this lot—I had run through it on the first night that I had seen David—and quickly found my way to the street. The guys were still nowhere to be seen, so I relaxed a little—they probably thought I was just taking my time in the washroom, trying to make up my mind.

Casting one last look over my shoulder to the lights of the boardwalk, I hurried off towards the center of town. The sad thing was, I didn't have a clue as to where I was headed.


	13. Chapter 13

**___Author's Notes:_**

___Hello again!_

___What's this? Another update so soon? I know, even I'm a little amazed. This series of events is evolving into somewhat of a monster so I've decided to split it up into three chapters (instead of the usual two). I promise that Chapter Fourteen will see an end to this rather long night in Felicia's life._

_Just wanted to say thank you again for the lovely reviews. I really wouldn't keep writing this if it weren't for those of you who do give feedback. :)_

_As per usual, I don't own the rights to the Lost Boys._

_Enjoy Chapter Thirteen!_

___Sincerely,_

___Amaryllidinae_

* * *

**Thirteen**

I DIDN'T BOTHER TO look where I was going until I stopped walking. When I got far enough away from the noise and activity of the boardwalk I let my feet take control and didn't give directions a second thought. I just kept plodding along, numbly putting one foot in front of the other, as my mind raced far ahead of me.

I couldn't stop thinking about that one insignificant yet _enthralling_ man from the boardwalk. Why would he, of all people (and I had looked at a lot of people), make me feel so strange? What could I have possibly seen in him that made me want to hurt him? From what I remembered about him—and I remembered every single detail about him, right down to the colour of the soles of his shoes (they were green)—there wasn't anything special. He was just an average guy, not overly attractive or deeply offensive to look at. If I was going to be honest, he couldn't hold a candle to David but that's not what's important. What's important is that there was _absolutely nothing_ about him that should have made me want to get close to him. Nothing. And yet… I did.

Even as I aimlessly walked the streets of Santa Carla, heading to a place that only my feet knew of, I felt a yearning somewhere inside of my heart. I wanted to go back to the walk. I wanted to find the strawberry-blonde man and talk to him, feel the heat of him next to me. I'm sure that had I actually been thinking about where I was walking to I would have ended up turning around. Ever since I saw that stupid stranger at that stupid burger restaurant, it had been like there was a tiny voice in the back of my head, constantly nagging me to pay attention to it.

_… Hey, Flic…_

_ … Felicia…_

_ … Hey…_

_ … **Feed me**._

It took all that I had to sequester those nagging thoughts—along with everything associated with them—away. I tucked all of that excess mental baggage back in the tiny dark space where I locked up my intuition when I didn't want to acknowledge it. But, every time my muscles would ache as I took another step, the padlock on the cage would rattle, reminding me of what I was trying to ignore. Honestly, it would be enough to make any normal person go stark raving mad.

And so I kept walking until my feet wouldn't take me any further.

Looking up, I didn't recognize where I was at first. I registered that I was standing in front of a store but, other than that, I was practically clueless. I glanced left and right down the shop-front until I saw something familiar: Max staring at me though the glass. It didn't make sense at first—I couldn't figure out why Max wouldn't be at his own store—but, after a quick second of pondering I knew what was going on. I had absently walked all the way to the VideoMax and stopped right outside the entrance.

I must have looked worse than I had ten minutes ago because Max's face fell when he realized who was staring back at him. He seemed to snap out of a daze when I waved pitifully at him, trying to easy the severity of his reaction. Before I could take another step towards the door, Max dashed around the counter to come to me. On any other occasion I would have met him halfway but my legs were so sore from walking that I stayed where I was.

"Oh my word," Max gasped, politely abashed, as he came out into the street, the bell over the door jingling loudly. "What's happened to you?"

I shrugged, avoiding his eyes. Although Max's face looked concerned, I couldn't shake the feeling that he was extremely angry—though not at me. "I don't know," I muttered to my shoes.

"Do you feel ill?" he asked sternly as if he was reprimanding me for not finishing my vegetables at supper. I could feel the overprotective side of him beginning to rear it's ugly head.

Physically? Not quite; I would have said 'sore' rather than 'ill'. But mentally? Why yes, I do feel deeply disturbed! How did you know? "No, not really. I'm just tired," I lied. "I haven't been sleeping well lately."

I took a chance and stole a glance at Max's face when he didn't immediately respond. To say that I regretted looking up is an understatement; one look at Max was enough to make me regret even _coming_ here. He was frowning so deeply that his usually kind face looked livid. "I may be old, but you can't actually expect me to believe that."

"Yeah, I was kinda hoping you would" I said timidly, scared of him for the first time since we had met. "It's really not as bad as it looks."

"Please, don't lie to me, Felicia," Max said, making an effort to soften his voice. For all the good it did, he shouldn't have tried to begin with. "It's the least you can do after running off on me."

Oooh, that one hit below the belt. "Look, I'm really sorry about that," I apologized, trying my best to sound sincere instead of annoyed, "there's just a lot of… _things_ that are going on right now and—"

"— Erin almost sent the authorities after you," Max interrupted, exasperated. He was so riled up that the tentative hold he had gained over his tone slipped instantly. "Did you ever think about how badly you scared her—scared _me_?"

Yeah, you think you're frustrated? Tell me about it. "No, I didn't. I just—"

"—And not to mention the counter top!" he continued to rant, steamrolling over my feeble attempts to make up excuses. After all, it wasn't like I could tell Max the truth about what was going on; he'd think I was crazy. Hell, I would if someone tried to tell me that they were turning in to vampire…

"I'm sorry about that too," I pleaded, looking around to see if anyone was watching me get screamed at; thankfully there wasn't. "I'll find a way to pay you back, I swear," I continued, raising a hand to silence Max when he opened his mouth to start talking over me again, "but can we discuss this somewhere other than the middle of the street?"

Max took in a very deep breath and sighed heavily. I waited patiently as he took a moment to calm himself; he seemed much more in control when he spoke again. "Yes, come inside. We'll chat there."

"Thanks," I said quietly, walking towards the entrance when Max motioned for me to go ahead. It took a little effort but I managed to yank open the heavy door like my arm didn't feel like jell-o and walk inside. I stopped at the counter to wait for Max.

"I'm sorry I raised my voice to you like that," Max said pleasantly once he was back inside. He took a moment to flip over the 'Open' sign on the door so that it read 'Closed' before he faced me. "There," he smiled, "no interruptions."

Great. Now I'm all alone with a forty-year-old man who's a little too attracted to me and I can barely make it up a flight of stairs. I didn't really think this through at all, did I? "Don't worry about it; you have every right to be angry with me—I would be." I shrugged nonchalantly, trying to keep the conversation strictly friendly.

"Sometimes you act so much older than you are," Max laughed as he shook his head thoughtfully. "I don't see you enough; I forget how mature you can be."

You and me both. "Thanks, I suppose. I've had my fair share of things to apologize for; it's made for good practice." Not that it's become any more of an enjoyable experience or anything…

Max and I stood looking quietly at each other for a moment before the silence became too much for me to bear. He was giving me the kind of look that David usually gave me whenever he asked me a very serious question—like he was reading my soul—and I found it disturbing. I mean a) it was strange that David and Max, two men who hardly knew each other, could share the same mannerisms, and b) it was so totally and utterly _wrong_ for a middle aged man to be doing soul-searching in my eyes. Ew.

Turning my back on Max I examined the glass over the counter top. It had obviously been fixed immediately after I had broken it; you couldn't tell that anything had happened. "How much did it cost to get this fixed?" I asked casually to break the silence.

I listened as Max walked over and leaned next to me. "Don't worry about it. I was more concerned about you than the glass; things can be replaced, people can't."

Something told me not to look up at him so I didn't. "I feel terrible about it, though," I muttered, tracing patterns on the smooth surface with my finger. Touching the cold glass made me notice how hot my hands were. After I realized that, it was impossible not to notice that I was sweltering all over. "It would really make _me_ feel better if you would tell me how much I owe you," I said pointedly as I shrugged off my coat. The cold air of the store felt so good against my skin that I shivered.

I heard Max gasp loudly as I tied my jacket loosely around my hips.

"What's wrong?" I asked slowly, glancing up at him despite my better judgment.

Instead of looking surprised, Max looked sad like I had just told him that Thorn was really sick and had to be put down. "What happened to your arms?" he whispered, gently lifting my right sleeve of my T-shirt away to have a better look at my bicep. The light touch of his finger grazing my skin was enough to make my whole side ache.

"Oh," I said, looking down from the bruise on my right arm to the huge black and yellow spot on my left elbow. "Would you look at that?" I said lightly, trying to come off as if the existence of the bruises were news to me.

"What is going on with you, Felicia?" Max pined. "One moment you're fine and the next minute you're perishing before my eyes!"

Talk about over reacting much? "They're really nothing," I shrugged. "You should see the cuts I got from the counter; they were much worse that these silly bumps." I turned my right hand over, looking down to prove my point. I was taken aback when my fingers and palm looked completely normal, like I had never sliced them open in the first place. "Strange," I mused, turning my hand this way and that, looking for any hint of a scab or scar. "The marks were there just a few days ago."

"Are you hurt anywhere else?" Max asked quietly as I continued to examine my hand. I should have had a scar at the very least; every time I got an injury larger than a paper cut it left a mark. The gashes that the glass had caused were large enough to have needed stitches.

"Hm? Oh, no," I fibbed absently. I was too busy thinking back to the night I had hurt my hand, trying to fit a month or more into four days.

"Felicia," Max said firmly, sounding like my father used to when he would tell me off for speaking in French around my mother. "This is important; don't lie to me."

"Why?" I said a little too harshly. "It's nothing you need to concern yourself with. They'll go away in a few days." Or maybe sooner, considering how fast my hand healed…

"Well someone has to worry about you," Max barked. "You won't and those _boys_ you're hanging around with aren't doing a very good job, either."

"Hey! This has nothing to do with them," I snapped defensively. "They don't know I'm not feeling well." I didn't like lying to Max—or trying to, anyway; he always seemed to be able to tell when I wasn't being honest—but I didn't really have another choice. Anything else I could say would make me sound crazy.

Max glared heavily at me, accusations of 'I don't believe a word that's coming out of your mouth' screaming from his eyes. "I realize you're trying to stick up for your friends, Felicia, but you can't ignore how poorly they're looking after you! You should be in much better condition than this."

I wasn't really sure why but Max's choice of words took me aback. It was like he was a doctor examining a case study patient who was failing to recover despite all his hardest efforts. "What's that supposed to mean?" I asked flatly, frowning right back at him. Now that I thought about it, I didn't like the way he was treating me either—like I was something that he had lent to a friend and been returned in poor shape.

"Have they fed you at all?" Max asked, ignoring my question in a fashion that made David look like the best conversationalist on the planet. I suddenly got the feeling that Max was running down some sort of mental checklist looking for the cause of my affliction instead of actually complaining.

"They've offered," I scoffed, unable to keep a heavy dose of sarcasm from creeping into my tone, "but I haven't felt hungry lately." Well not for food, anyway…

Max's anger evaporated quickly, a puzzled frown sweeping over his brow. "Hm. Well that explains a lot but not the bruises," he muttered to himself, gently lifting my left arm to look at the baseball sized blemish that covered my elbow. "But that doesn't make any sense; this shouldn't be happening so quickly. Unless…"

"Unless what?" I asked warily. Why did I get the feeling that Max knew more than he was letting on?

"Nothing," Max said lightly, his mood shifting so fast that I was left with emotional whiplash. "You need to eat something—and quickly, too. It will make the aches and pains stop, not to mention the fatigue and the bruising."

A quick mental recap of my conversation with Max was enough to tell me that I wasn't the only one being dishonest. "I never said I was in any pain _or_ that I was tired," I said pointedly, my voice dropping to a low whisper as I wrenched my arm away.

"Well, I can only assume," he shrugged, unfazed.

That was the most informed-sounding assumption I have _ever_ heard. "I see," I muttered, inching slightly farther down the counter. It wasn't until Max had picked up my arm that I noticed how close he was to me. It was really quite uncomfortable and extremely inappropriate.

"Speaking of your friends," he said casually, examining his nails like I hadn't moved away from him although I could see in his eyes that he was slightly putout, "where are they?"

I had to backtrack into our conversation to remember when he had brought them up. "I have no idea," I sighed, "but I don't really want to talk about them right now."

"Why not?" Max smiled, his face oddly triumphant.

What is it with people in this town? No one knows when to drop a topic of conversation. "We're not exactly seeing eye-to-eye right now," I said, matter-of-factly before trying to segue to another topic. "Do you mind if I hop up on the counter? I haven't had a chance to sit down since I got up today."

"Oh, no, go right ahead," Max smiled, gesturing for me to climb up. "I would offer you a chair but I don't have any."

"Thanks," I grinned back, trying to ease the strange sense of tension that had filled the store. Turning my back to the counter, I firmly placed both of my hands on the glass and prepared to hoist myself up. My knees painfully reminded me that I was in no shape for any form of 'hoisting' when I bent them.

"Do you need help?" Max asked, his voice taking on a faint echo of the tone he had used when examining my arm.

"No, I'm fine. Hey, speaking of Erin: where is she?" I said curtly in an effort to distract Max before I mustered up the last little bit of strength that I had and jumped up onto the counter. The second I was seated every part of my body began to twitch and ache with such ferocity that I almost toppled over backwards. I was so exhausted and crippled from simply hopping four feet into the air that I couldn't grab onto the lip of the counter to stop myself. Luckily, I guess, Max was there; he rushed over and caught me—one hand painfully tight around my arm, the other behind my back—before I could fall and crack my head open on the floor.

"Careful," he said with a laugh, loosening the death-grip he had on my arm even though it was too late to prevent another bruise from forming. "You need to work on your balance. But, as for Erin, I had to let her go: she was more focused on chatting than working."

I had to bite my tongue to keep from screaming I hurt so badly all over. "I guess I do," I growled through clenched teeth. Fancy that coming from a gymnast; I never thought I would see the day. "Well that's a shame," I continued, trying to make my voice even, "I liked her."

"I did too," Max smiled, though the glint in his eye was something closer to maniacal than playful. "Can you manage to sit without falling over?" he teased, still hovering over me like I was going to pass out at any second.

Not you too! "I'm _fine_," I hissed, desperately trying to ignore a fresh wave all-over pain.

Max gave me a cursory once over before he let go of me completely. "If you're sure…" he laughed, trailing off when his impromptu doctor's examination reached my face.

What? Did I have a huge zit or something? I didn't see one when I looked in the mirror earlier but those things are notorious for popping up unexpectedly. "Uh… Max?" I asked slowly, resisting the urge to wave my hand in front of his eyes.

"You've lost weight," he mused, delicately brushing my jawbone with his hand as if he was afraid to hurt me.

Yes, because that wasn't extremely creepy or wrong… "No, I haven't," I murmured, shuffling away from him.

"This is much worse than I thought," Max frowned, not paying attention to me any more.

You're telling me. "What do you mean, Max?" I didn't like the worried look that had settled in on his face; it made me feel like I had just been diagnosed with terminal cancer. Max was apparently so lost in thought that he didn't hear me. "Max?" I repeated anxiously.

"Hm?" he said absently, his eyes focusing on the here and now again. "What was that?"

"I asked you what you mean when you said 'this is much worse than you thought'," I said quietly, dreading his answer.

Max went quiet for another second, obviously trying to word what he had to say as gently as possible. "Well, I guess there's really no point in keeping it from you anymore. You see, Felicia, I'm not quite sure how to put this so it isn't shocking, but—"

Both Max and I whipped our heads towards the door when the bell happily announced someone new entering the store. The sound was so unexpected that Max stopped talking, mid-sentence.

My heart iced over when I saw who was standing there.

"Oh God," I breathed, fear making my lungs seize. David was looming just inside of the doorway, pure rage contorting his face into a hellish mask. The sad thing was that, even though he was so undeniably angry, I couldn't help but notice how handsome he still looked. Anger suited him in a strange way.

Yes, I know: I'm a lost cause. Please, don't remind me…

"Get over here," David growled, his voice dropping lower than I had ever heard it go. He sounded like he had gone absolutely feral; I was instantly terrified.

"I don't think I want to," I whispered, shocked that my voice was still working.

"Felicia," he barked, his voice suddenly so loud that I flinched.

I glanced over to Max, begging him to save me. Although I had managed to get away from David without a hitch, I had never really planned for what would happen once I caught up with him again. I would have said that I had more important things to focus on but it was becoming steadily apparent that this was more crucial than I had anticipated. "Help me," I pleaded.

Max was very quiet. I would have expected him to be irate—David had just entered the store while it was technically closed and he was back on Max's property without permission—but he wasn't. Instead, he was silently fuming with such intensity that even _I_ felt scared of him. "Go, Felicia," he said through gritted teeth, never once looking at me; he just kept staring at David, the most intense kind of hatred radiating off of him in waves.

"_What?_" I yelped, my eyes popping wide as my heart raced off without me.

"Go," he repeated, still glaring balefully at David. On any other occasion I would have stopped to think about what part of this conversation I was being excluded from. The way that Max and David were staring at each other gave me the chills—like they were silently ripping each other to shreds—but I was too frightened to give it any real thought. All I could do was to gape between the door and the back edge of the counter top, struggling to discover a feasible escape route. My options considered, I literally had nowhere to run without either falling and hurting myself or going through David (who, I might add, looked mad enough to seriously hurt me).

"Come here," David hissed at me, his eyes flashing dangerously. I could have sworn that I saw David steal a quick glance at each of the bruises on my arms, but I wasn't really certain. Maybe it was just the fluorescent lights playing tricks on me…

Okay, I can be dumb. I freely admit it. But I am most assuredly not _that_ idiotic. "Do I have 'stupid' tattooed on my forehead or something?" I demanded as I edged farther onto the counter, buckling myself down against the glass for love or money. "Because I must if you think I'm going to come with you, David."

Before I knew what was going on David was standing directly in front of me, seemingly having crossed a ten-foot gap in less than a millisecond. I gasped loudly, the sound a mixture of astonishment and pain, when he reached out and grabbed onto my wrist. With one swift yank he sent me reeling towards the ground despite the fact that I had been clinging to the glass for my very life. I landed incorrectly on my right foot, straining my ankle before I had a chance to catch my balance. Fireworks of agony exploded in my ligaments, the intense pain quickly spreading up my leg and throughout my body. "Ow, David! You're hurting me!" I cried, fighting against the tears that were welling in my eyes.

"Do I look like I care?" he growled, towing hobble-long me towards the door.

"You should!" I yelled, fighting against the vice-like hold he had on my wrist. It did nothing more than make my arm and ankle hurt worse than they had before.

"Stop struggling," he said blackly, pushing the door open with more force than was necessary.

I cast a pleading glance over my shoulder to Max as David pulled me outside. Instead of jumping up to help me, Max simply shrugged his shoulders like there was nothing he could do. I instantly got the feeling that he felt mad, maybe even jealous, to see me leave with David.

As soon as the door to the VideoMax closed behind us—the stupid bell jingling merrily like nothing was wrong—David shoved me into the street towards his motorcycle. Paul, Marko and Dwayne were waiting for us just off of the curb, watching stoically. I, of course, being in peak physical condition, tripped over my gimp foot and went tumbling to the ground, scraping both of my palms in the process.

"Get up," David said tersely as he walked past. He was seated on his bike and staring darkly at me when I looked up.

"What is the _matter_ with you?" I seethed, struggling to pull myself to my hands and knees. I didn't really need an answer but I asked anyway. David was entitled to be upset with me but not _this_ mad—this was ludicrous.

"What do you think is the matter?" David sneered, his usually animated face set in a stoney frown. "You ran off," he spat when I didn't immediately offer him an answer.

Planting one of my raw hands back on the ground, I slowly pushed myself to my feet. I had to rely on my already shaky left leg to hold my entire weight so, naturally, I staggered forwards a little. This was not going to end well.

"And you expected something different?" I scoffed, my breathing coming in soft gasps from the effort it had taken to stand and keep myself from toppling over again.

I didn't think it was possible, but David's frown deepened with such intensity that the force of his gaze made my next gasp for air catch in my chest. "I wouldn't have let you leave in the first place if I did," he growled.

"Well that was stupid on your part," I hissed when I shifted my weight to my damaged leg out of habit, "but it's no reason to beat me up."

"You should be happy that you're not in worse shape," David said pointedly, a very frightening smirk coming to his drawn lips.

I didn't doubt the fact that David was capable of hurting someone if he wanted to—I had seen him kill a man with his bare hands—but I never dreamed that he would threaten _me_. "You wouldn't," I whispered, finding a scrap of courage to use so I could glare back at him. I didn't want David to be able to tell how scared I was but, needless to say, it didn't work very well.

David laughed one short, clipped burst as his eyes flashed murderously. "If you don't do what I tell you, you'll find out."

"He's not kidding, Flic," Dwayne whispered, his voice cool and detached. The unexpected sound made me jump—I had forgotten that David and I weren't alone.

"Just do what he says," Marko prodded stiffly.

I didn't bother turning to look at the others because I knew I wouldn't find any sympathy in their faces. Instead I kept staring at David, trying to find a shred of feeling in his eyes. Any softer emotion would have been good enough but there was nothing. Not pity, not hurt, not remorse. Nothing. His eyes were as cold as ice, the anger burning there enough to chill me from head to toe. I had really hurt him by running from the boardwalk.

The shivers running up and down my spine were enough to tell me that maybe right now wasn't the best time to be openly pig headed.

Sucking in one large breath, I exhaled in a slow sigh before limping across the pavement towards David. Grabbing tightly onto his shoulder, I put my weight on my busted ankle so I could swing myself behind him on the Triumph. Once seated, I loosely draped my arms around his waist. It was like touching stone.

"This is the first smart thing you've done since I met you," David snapped over his shoulder, revving the engine loudly as soon as he finished. He didn't want to leave time for me to respond.

"Now you know what it feels like to have someone stab you in the back," I retorted anyway, my voice completely lost under the roaring of the bike. I wasn't sure if David heard me or not, but it didn't matter. I was determined to remain defiant in some way, even if it was just to myself.

I lost track of time as the five of us sped off into the night going to only God knows where. There was no joy radiating off of David like there usually was when we drove; he was just as upset as I was to be making this trip though probably for completely different reasons. In his eyes, I had intentionally betrayed his trust—which was completely untrue. Okay, well at least part of it was anyway.

I hadn't _planne_d on bolting when I left in the first place, it had just kind of… happened. I panicked and I ran. That was the first time 'flight' had won out over 'fight' in a very long time for me and it couldn't have happened in a worse way. My lecturing and ranting from last night had come back to bite me swiftly in the ass. I had behaved just as poorly as David had to me and I felt terribly guilty about it. Now didn't feel like the best time to try and apologize—I liked my head right where it was, safely perched between my shoulders—but I would soon, when the opportunity presented itself.

All of that considered, I should be better at making decisions under pressure. But, then again, the choices that I had to make in the past didn't have such far-reaching ramifications. Nothing I had ever had to deal with before had implicated so many people. I had no experience when it came to gambling with lives—not with my own and especially not with the lives of other people—and I didn't want to end up making the wrong choice. What I needed was something to help make the choice for me. Not that I would ever admit that, but it was true. If I had figured anything out over the past two nights it was that there was no way I was going to make up my mind on my own.

Every so often as I thought and we moved deeper into the night, I would feel David's shoulders sag against me. It felt as if he was suddenly being overcome by a tidal wave of sadness that he could do nothing but crumple under. Although I was extremely upset at him for being so rough with me, I couldn't help it but feel badly for him. I wanted to snuggle myself close to him, wrapping my arms tightly around his waist, so that he would know I was sorry. But he didn't remain soft like that for long; immediately after he would relax his spine would stiffen again, his body going back to being a piece of rock under my hands. This happened repeatedly until we came to a stop on an all-too familiar stretch of beach.

"Not this place again," I muttered when David killed the engine, my memories of the night I had watched David and the others kill the beach goers flooding back. I could see a fire glowing in the distance, the flames shooting up from the sand like a beacon of the worst kind.

"I'm helping you," David whispered frostily before he got off of the Tiger and started making his way through the sand. "Try and keep up."


	14. Chapter 14

**__****_Author's Notes_**___:_

_Hello again, everyone!_

_It's been absolutely forever since I last updated and I'm truly sorry! I just finished school and now find myself with enough time to relax and get some writing done. Updates should be a lot more steady now. :)_

_That being said, I would like to apologize in advance for the next to 'chapters'. When I sat down to write Chapter 14 I didn't expect it to be as long as it ended up being. I figured that over 17,000 words was a lot to put into one sitting so I split this into two parts._

_I hope you all enjoy this installment of Felicia's story._

___Sincerely,_

___Amaryllidinae_

___P.S.: Almost forgot to add the usual disclaimer blurb before I published this. As per usual, I don't own the rights to the Lost Boys. Unfortunate, I know, but sadly that's the way the world works. Enjoy Chapter 14 (parts one and two)! - A._

P.P.S.: Sorry, one last little note. Editing is taking a lot longer than I anticipated. I will have the second half of this installment edited and published before tomorrow! - A.

* * *

**Fourteen**

"YOU ALMOST BROKE MY foot. What makes you think that I'm in any shape to keep up with you?" I growled as I slid off the Triumph after David, putting weight on the foot in question without thinking. My ankle gave out before I could correct myself and I lost the tenuous hold I had on my balance. Quickly shifting myself to teeter on my good leg, I managed to hold myself upright for a second before doing a face plant. This was, of course, entirely embarrassing even though it did prove my point and rather dramatically, too. So dramatically, in fact, that David stopped to watch me flounder around in the sand.

"It's your ankle, not your foot," he said angrily, glaring at me through the darkness when I finally managed to get my hair out of my face. "Get up."

Yeah, yeah, whatever. Foot… Ankle… They're attached to each other. Technicalities: who needs them? "You could help me instead of just standing there and watching," I grumbled. "I know I pissed you off but that's not an excuse to be a vindictive bastard."

One of David's eyebrows shot up towards his hair in a disbelieving stare; his expression made me feel like grinning. I may have been exhausted, embarrassed, guilt-ridden and scared but that didn't mean that I was just going to let people walk all over me. "Yeah, because that makes me want to help you," David drawled, stuffing his hands into his pant pockets before stalking away.

"Well I don't want your help anyway," I groaned under my breath as I planted my raw hands into the sand. "You'll probably just end up hurting me more." My arms refused to bear my weight completely, so pushing myself up was an adventure in and of itself. I almost fell back onto my face once or twice but, eventually, I struggled to my knees. The process was so exhausting that I had to stop for a minute to slow my breathing and let my muscles relax. All of the stress I had gone through tonight was starting to catch up with me, it seemed—my body felt like it was shutting down.

I sighed, frustrated with myself for being incapable of simply getting up off the ground, when Paul stopped in front of me. "Need a hand?" he asked, his voice devoid of the snicker I was expecting. It immediately threw me off.

"No," I replied slowly, quickly trying to come up with a reason for why he was acting so pleasantly. It was very unlike Paul not to instantly poke fun at me or try to annoy me in one way or another. "I'm fine," I finally said, looking down at my hands like I was inspecting the sand-filled abrasions instead of stalling. I didn't want an audience—especially not one that had Paul in it—when I tried to get to my feet again.

Paul laughed and held his hand out to me anyway, ignoring my feelings in his usual fashion. "You don't have to act tough, Flic."

And you don't have to act so weirdly. "Who said I was?" I muttered, casting a dejected glance to Paul's outstretched arm. In all actuality, I wanted to take his hand but, after what had happened outside of the VideoMax, my pride was screaming for me to hold onto what scraps were left of my dignity and get up on my own.

"Just take my hand. I promise I won't tell anyone that you're a helpless mess," Paul teased, a mischievous glint coming to his eyes. He even winked at me as he reached closer.

Oh, fuck it. Why not? This night hasn't gone nearly bad enough yet, so why not help it along a little? "I will make your life a living Hell if you try to hold this over my head," I grunted as I grabbed onto Paul and let him heave me through the air. He used so much force that I felt weightless for a split second; the feeling of relief from supporting my body was to die for. It made it all that much harder to keep standing when I was back on my feet.

Paul chuckled, trying to discretely hover over me and make sure that I wasn't going to fall over again. "I'm not afraid of you and your little hissy fits," he shrugged. "Do your worst."

"You seemed to mind when I punched you in the face the other night—I could do that again," I muttered as I took a tentative step—well, it was more like a 'hobble' than an actual step—through the sand. My legs told me that they had taken just about enough abuse for the night but I kept them in line, pushing through the pain. Once I was sure that I was in control of my own limbs, I kept walking. As to why I did, I have no idea. I should have just sat myself back in the sand and waited for David to return. But, if I had to make a guess, I would have said that, deep down, I felt compelled to do what he wanted. Having David mad at me was a terrible thing and I wanted to try and make him less upset, even though I would probably end up making things worse.

Swinging the wild mess of his hair out of the way, Paul flashed me the right side of his face and tapped his jawline as he strolled alongside me. "It's like it never happened," he said with a smirk. "Besides, it didn't hurt that much. It was more like a tap than a punch."

"I have witnesses," I said pointedly as we slowly followed in the direction David had gone. I couldn't see him anymore but it probably wasn't helping that I was avoiding looking in the general direction of the bonfire. "Marko and Dwayne will side with me, I'm sure," I explained, training my eyes on the ground directly in front of my feet to look for things that I might trip over.

"They like me better," Paul laughed as he reached out to shove me, thinking better of it just before his arms touched my shoulder.

"That's what you think," I sighed, trying to sound happy.

"Are you kidding me?" he crowed, honestly astonished. "Marko, maybe. But Dwayne? He hates you lately! I mean he didn't _used_ to but you've sure done something to piss him off."

I rolled my eyes, ignoring the hurt that Paul's blatant honestly inspired. It didn't really matter if Dwayne liked me or not—my world was most definitely _not_ going to fall apart because of him—but it still wasn't nice to hear that someone hated me. I mean, sure, I'm a little stubborn at times and a bit 'moody' lately, but that's no reason to _hate_ me. "Gee, what gave you that impression?" I asked sarcastically to cover up my feelings.

"Well—" Paul started, his normal wide grin in place to go with his joking tone.

I raised my hand, aiming to tease as I cut him off. "—Rhetorical question, Paul."

"I know," he laughed, almost shoving me again.

"But, speaking of Tweedledee and Tweedledum," I grunted as I tripped over my own feet, "where are they? I haven't seen them since we got here."

Paul stared at me quizzically, completely missing my joke. "What?" he asked, sounding like I had just asked him to tell me all about his position on String Theory and Quantum Physics.

I looked over at him, my expression one of utter disbelief. Didn't people in the eighties read? "Tweedledee and Tweedledum are characters in a book," I explained. When a light bub didn't go off over Paul's head I rolled my eyes. "This should be so obvious—it's called 'Alice in Wonderland'. It's a classic. Do the words 'Knave of Hearts', 'Cheshire Cat' and 'Bill the Lizard' ring any bells?"

"If you're talking about Marko and Dwayne," Paul said slowly, looking at me like I was crazy, "David sent them ahead to scou—"

"—Never mind, I get it," I interrupted, shuddering violently. It was sad to think that I had been so absorbed in dealing with David that I hadn't even noticed him talking to Marko and Dwayne. And as if that wasn't bad enough, and I had also managed to miss the two of them running—or perhaps 'flying' was a better verb (… I cannot _believe_ I just said that…)—off into the night towards the fire.

… Ugh. The fire. The people. Why do I do this to myself?

I had kept it out of my mind until now but just passively thinking about the people that were waiting in the distance made my stomach do nervous flip-flops. It was easier to keep walking if I pretended like I had no idea what—or who—I was going towards. If I dwelt on it, I there was no way that I would be able to pick up my foot to take another step. Then again, maybe if I fell over Paul would carry me the rest of the way…

Okay, yeah, scrap that. Horrible idea.

Paul laughed quietly before turning his eyes in the direction of the fire. I decidedly didn't follow his gaze and kept staring at my feet. Everything was a joke to him in one way or another, no matter the topic of conversation. "David's right: you really are taking this too seriously," he smiled. "Lighten up a little, Flic."

Yes, because David knows absolutely everything—especially when it comes to me. "Murder isn't really something that you can 'lighten up' about, Paul," I hissed. "Honestly, am I the only person here who has a conscience?"

Paul laughed loudly, carefree as ever. "It's not murder. People kill animals all the time because they have to. We're just doing the same thing. You wouldn't call someone who eats steak a murderer, would you?" Even though Paul didn't necessarily act it, he was very clever. His argument was sound and that was extremely unsettling. Paul should have been making jokes about how I could barely stand, not having a moral debate with me. This was just weird.

We were close enough to the bonfire that I could smell the smoke on the air. The scent made me feel strange: my stomach was twitchy like I was nauseous, dizzy and excited all at the same time. Naturally, that was all I could think about and my smart come-backs were lost. I was going to say something about PETA but I couldn't recall what the joke had been… "You can't equate a person with a cow," I snapped instead, spitting out the most solid rebuttal I could come up with. "People have feelings and thoughts; cows don't."

"Sure they do," Paul scoffed before tossing his hair out of his eyes again. "Just because it's not the same as what you think—"

"—I think I like you better when you're not being smart," I interrupted darkly, turning my head upwards to better glower at him. The way that Paul was able to justify killing innocent people was disturbing, not to mention the fact that he was making me feel ashamed of how I was reacting to this whole… _situation_. "Seriously, though," I muttered when Paul went smugly silent, "you're creeping me out."

"Me too," he chuckled, holding out his hand to stop me from walking blindly into Marko's back. I looked up at Paul's touch, the gentle force of his hand on my collar bone enough to make my entire torso ache. And, of course, after one part of me started to hurt I couldn't help but notice that the rest of me felt like it was being set on fire, too. My legs were the worst, though; all of the effort I had put into forcing them through the sand made my calves feel like they were being pulled apart, fibre by fibre.

God, what is _wrong_ with me? I should be in outstanding physical condition, not having difficulty walking like some sort of geriatric patient. Not to mention that I'm practically being knocked breathless whenever someone lays a finger on me. This is getting so totally out of control…

The ripping pain in my legs was making tears come to my eyes and the last thing I wanted right now was to start crying. A quick look around afforded me enough time to take a few deep breaths and gain control over my inconvenient tears. We were still a little ways away from the bonfire but, looking back to where I had come from, it was amazing that I had managed to walk so far so quickly. I had thought Paul and I were going a lot slower.

"'Bout time you got here," Marko smiled, full of energy as per usual. "Your dinner 's going to turn into take-out if you don't hurry up, Flic."

My head snapped over to Marko, my gaping expression apparently so hilarious that he couldn't help laughing. "Excuse me, what?" I said loudly, his joke offensive on so many levels that I couldn't even begin to count them.

"They're—" here he jerked his thumb over his shoulder towards the fire, rustling the tassels on his jacket "—going to be packing up soon unless you get really lucky and they fall asleep or something."

I cast a steely glance in the direction Marko had pointed, quickly examining the fire. The flames were slowly dying down—I clearly remembered how large they had been when we first arrived—though I couldn't see any shapes moving around before them. Perhaps the people had already left and Marko didn't know it yet. "And that effects me how?" I asked, my voice cutting. The question really was useless: I knew what we were doing here the second David stopped his bike on the sand.

"David wants you to hurry up," Marko said coyly, avoiding my question.

Looking past Marko a second time, I could see the familiar outlines of David and Dwayne silhouetted faintly against the distant glow of the fire. They were standing relatively close, their heads bent in deep discussion. Dwayne was very animated and excited about something; every so often he would gesture towards the fire in the distance and then back over his shoulder towards the rest of us. As he talked, though I couldn't hear what was being said, David kept shaking his head ever so slightly as if he didn't like what he was hearing. It was a very one-sided conversation with Dwayne doing most of the talking but, every time that Dwayne would pause to let David speak, it would incite a lot more excited pointing.

I watched the two of them talk for a minute until there was a pause in the conversation. From over here, it didn't seem like Dwayne and David were arguing; it was more like Dwayne was trying to convince David of something. Afraid to be caught watching, I turned back to Marko's excited face. "Is that all?" I said flatly, struggling to keep my voice somewhat pleasant.

"Pretty much, yeah," he laughed. A second or so later, Marko cast a quick glance over his shoulder like someone had called his name. I would have sworn that no one spoke but, then again, I could have been wrong. The record stands to show that, since spending time in Santa Carla, almost everything I have ever thought is wrong. "You need to get going," Marko said, pointing towards David with a rather suggestive wink, "David wants to talk to you."

Well, isn't that nice for David? "If all this is really so important, David can come over here to talk to me," I growled, casting a dark glare towards David's shadowy outline. "I'm not really in the mood for more walking."

Paul snickered violently under his breath before giving me a gentle push forward. "C'mon, I'll pick you up when you fall."

My shoulders ached so badly where he touched me that I would have given anything to have them surgically removed. It was like someone had broken a bottle and shoved each little shard into my flesh, right down to the bone, and slowly started twisting them one by one. "'When'," I repeated as I took the first few shaky steps around Marko. "You say that like it's inevitable."

"Mmm-hmm," Paul smiled, nudging me again when I stopped to catch my breath. "You're predictable."

"And you're not?" I hissed, stumbling forward again as fire erupted across my back adding to the initial 'discomfort' he had caused me.

"Paul's right," Marko laughed, jogging to the front of our sad little procession across the beach. He walking backwards before me obviously trying to show off his unimpeded motor skills. "I've never met someone so easy to read in my life."

Yeah, because you're not an open book at all.

The lingering, twisting, burning pain across my upper back was so intense now I had to concentrate extremely hard on the conversation to keep up with what was being said. Needless to say that left me unable to watch my feet so I tripped over a piece of wood. Luckily, as I rocketed towards the ground, I managed to catch myself before Paul could reach out and grab me. After what he had done to my shoulders, I wanted him grabbing onto me as little as possible. "I could say the same about you two," I grumbled back when I was sure I wasn't going to stumble again.

"You wish," Paul and Marko said in unison, dissolving into a fit or raucous laughter as we came to a stop next to David and Dwayne. Marko gave Dwayne a playful shove on the back and had to duck out of the path of Dwayne's answering punch. The blow narrowly missed Marko's head.

"Stop touching me, you little shit," Dwayne hissed when Marko landed another quick tap on his side.

"You taking Flic's 'pissy pills'?" Marko goaded barely avoiding being clocked a second time. I decidedly ignored the jab at me—I didn't want to be dragged into this. There was no way I could hold my own against Dwayne on a good night let alone right now; I was liable to get my ass handed to me. And, speaking of ass-kicking, Dwayne was getting closer and closer to smacking Marko each time the smaller boy prodded him. I wouldn't have been surprised if, on Dwayne's next swing, Marko was on the receiving end of a nasty black eye.

"Eat shit and die, Marko. Touch me one more time," Dwayne growled, the threat behind his voice clearly real, "and I swear I'll—"

"—You'll what?" Marko snickered impishly, quickly jumping up to smack Dwayne over the ear. "I'm not scared of you."

"I'm going to fucking _kill_ you," Dwayne growled, lunging for Marko's throat. Marko, of course, slipped out of the way and took off running with Dwayne hot on his heels. Not a second later, Paul took off, too, faintly screaming something about not wanting to be left out of a good fight as he went. The whole thing felt so orchestrated that it was criminal.

Well, I guess that just leaves me and you then, David. "You wanted to talk to me?" I said acridly, placing my hands on my hips to show just how upset I was for being made to walk all the way over here.

"Yes," David said coolly though his general standoffishness was tainted by the slightest hint of resignation. I quickly remembered back to how David had been acting while he was talking to Dwayne and instantly felt wary. I recognized this expression as being very similar, if not identical, to the one he had been wearing a few nights ago when he first tried to get me to drink human blood. This wasn't going to be good.

I quietly waited for him to keep speaking but he never did. Instead David just stared at me, his eyes troubled underneath the thin layer of his frosty stare. It was very worrisome to know that David was so upset; I had no idea what about, but it obviously something bad—possibly something worse than simply committing a murder. "Well, about what?" I asked curtly. "If you're just going to stand there and stare at me I have a million other places I would like to be." Like in bed. Sleeping sounds like a wonderful idea right about now.

"There are two people—a man and a woman—next to that fire," he explained, his eyes icing over completely. "I want you to go over there and pretend like you're lost. Once you've distracted them, I'm going to—"

"—Wait a minute, wait a minute!" I burst out, my voice edging on a scream. When David took in a deep breath to keep talking I reached out to clamp his mouth shut with my hand. The scruff of his chin felt nice on my skin, so nice, in fact, that I had to pull myself together before my mind started wandering down 'shadier' paths. I had way too many significantly more important things to think about right now without having my thoughts wander off without me. Committing homicide, for example, was one of those 'significantly more important' things.

I could feel David scowling under my ruined palm but he did stop trying to talk. Positive that I wasn't going to be interrupted, I continued protesting. "What do you mean 'distract' them? You're talking about me like you think I'm actually going to _help_ you kill these two people!" I shrieked, resisting the fleeting urge to lift my hand back and smack David across the face. Maybe it would knock some sense into him…

Despite the venomous glare he was sporting, David took my hand away from his mouth very gently. My entire arm hurt regardless but it was the pain was kept to a manageable degree. "Yes, I am," he said plainly, trying to leave as little room for discussion as possible. "You're going to do what I say whether you like it or not."

Pfft! Me? Stop arguing? Yeah, right; like _that's_ ever going to happen. I had felt sorry enough for you earlier to _maybe_ do what you wanted but this just got personal, not to mention totally unreasonable. "Well now that I know what you're up to, I won't," I said, my voice admittedly just a tad too petulant.

It was impossible not to notice David's eyes light up; he looked like I had just given him some vital piece of information that was the key to solving all of his problems. "You make that sound like you were planning on listening in the first place," David said dryly, his frown melting around the edges.

This conversation is going south in a hurry.

"Maybe I was," I sniffed, "but not anymore."

David rolled his eyes, his mood snapping from being angry to vaguely amused in an instant. "I could just _make_ you go over there, you know."

"No, you can't," I growled, annoyed by his sudden good mood. We were talking about killing innocent people, this was clearly not to time to be happy.

"Yes, I can," David laughed. "And I will."

"No," I barked with much hatred as I could muster (which was quite a bit). "You can't make me do anything I don't want to. No one can."

"Really?" David said, his frown dissolving into a very serene smile. I didn't like the way his eyes were sparkling; they didn't look playful, they looked mean. I couldn't stop a shiver from running up my spine. There really wasn't a doubt in my mind that he _could_ make me do what he wanted but I wasn't just going to let him walk over me some more.

"Yeah," I snapped, trying to harden my face to look more intimidating. It didn't work; David just kept on grinning like I hadn't said anything. "And I'd like to see you try."

"Don't think that I won't," he whispered, his tone airy. David seemed to think that I was joking around with him which I most assuredly wasn't.

And men say that women have unpredictable mood-swings…

I couldn't keep myself from taking a step backwards. I didn't like the hint of a threat that was still hidden in David's voice; even though he was obviously trying to lighten things up, his tone was a little too sincere for my comfort. "Come near me and, I swear, I _will_ break your kneecaps," I barked, trying to make him understand I was being serious.

"Now that's something I'd like to see. You'd hurt yourself before you'd hurt me," David laughed, crouching slightly as he shadowed even my smallest twitch. He was treating this like a game and not taking me seriously at all, as usual. It was infuriating.

"Care to find out?" I hissed as I mustered up as much strength as I could. My body ached severely with the effort but I ignored the pain; I had a point to prove and that was all that mattered. Well, either that, or end up high-tailing it across the beach—whichever came first.

David's eyes froze over in an instant, his face hardening from teasingly happy to irate in the blink of an eye. "Don't you dare run away from me again, Felicia," David hissed, his voice dangerously low.

If I wasn't so mad, I probably would have stopped to take serious notice of the pain that was hidden in David's voice. But, being so rattled by having my thoughts spoken aloud by someone other than me, I only acknowledged it in passing "I never said I was planning on it, David," I spat back. My legs snarled in protest as I unconsciously bunched my muscles, preparing to bolt in the opposite direction.

He screwed up his face like he had been caught in a very bad lie. I had never seen David caught off guard before and he seemed very vulnerable, fragile almost. "That's not important," he yelled, going back to his normal hard, sarcastic and angry self when he met my eyes again. "Stay put."

"And what if I don't?" I screamed back.

"I will drag you back here by your ankles if I have to."

"That's if you can catch me."

"Don't. You. Dare!" he roared, brandishing a finger at me like it would make me stay in one place.

Yeah, right. As if.

"Now that you mention it," I said slyly, acting like the idea had never crossed my mind to begin with, "taking a leisurely jaunt down the beach does sound like a good idea—actually, it sounds like a _great_ idea." Not only am I going to piss you off some more—which is more than you deserve—but I'm going to put some much needed space between myself and those poor people in the distance.

My stomach twisted painfully when I thought of the strangers again, the sensation a mix of fear and something that I couldn't quite put my finger on. It was like I was anticipating having my birthday cake that I hadn't picked out brought to me so I could blow out the candles. Would it be a flavour I liked? How would it smell? And what if I didn't like how it tasted—would I be able to suffer through it for the sake of the people who bought it for me?

… Just hold a second…

The world stopped for what felt like a very long moment. Why would thinking about _people I had never met_ remind me of eating _birthday cake?_ I had just been over this with Paul: people are not the same as cows and most definitely not cakes! How someone smells or tastes is not something that the prospect of interacting with strangers should make me consider. The only other time I had even _remotely_ pondered something similar was earlier this evening when I was at the boardwalk and I had seen that man, the one with the strawberry-blonde hair and the green-soled shoes…

Oh. My. God.

"Felicia," David hissed, using my name as a threat. His voice was dripping with frustration and acid, practically giving me another reason to turn on my heel and bolt. I was already having trouble staying in place as it was.

"Catch me if you can," I breathed, trying to hide the intense horror that was eating me alive from the inside with a glare. Not a second later, I willed my tired legs into action and took off down the beach in a panicked sprint.

Each step I took through the uneven terrain send explosions off in my knees, hips and back—not to mention my bad ankle. High-tops don't necessarily make for very good ankle support but I pushed myself through the pain and managed to maintain a good speed. I had no idea where I was going but, then again, I didn't really care. So long as if was in the opposite direction of David and the bonfire—_especially _the fire—it was good enough for me. I probably could have run from here to Nome and it wouldn't have been far enough away. The pain and effort it took to keep going was also a good distraction from the frenzy of thoughts that was spinning around inside of my head. Any reason not to concentrate on them was a good one.

"STOP RUNNING, FELICIA!" David bellowed from behind me, his voice much too close and clear for my comfort. Throwing a quick glance over my shoulder I was shocked to find David insanely close on my tail, a black and platinum bullet streaking across the sand. He looked absolutely murderous and ready to tear me to shreds when he caught up with me.

Again, all the more reason for me to keep going. I didn't want to commit a homicide and I also didn't feel like being the victim of one, either.

"FELICIA!" David screamed again in the background but he was just that, now: background noise.

Adrenaline had started pumping through my system which made it so much easier to run. My body felt like mine again, like it was how it was supposed to be. Exhilarated from the shock of chemicals to my system, I pushed for as much speed as I could. I was determined to get away from David, even if I ended up getting lost or, worse, expiring from over exertion.

A few second later, when I was sure that I had gained a significant lead on David, I shot another quick glance behind me. Needless to say, I was shocked when he wasn't there screaming at me. I was so floored, in fact, that I kept running without looking where I was going.

Very stupid on my part, I know.

Where had David disappeared too? He had just been behind me a moment ago and I hadn't seen him pass me. There was no way on earth that I could miss something like that. If he had stopped—which wasn't likely—I would have seen him standing in the distance or, better yet, walking in the opposite direction. So if David wasn't chasing _after _me, he hadn't gotten close enough to _pass _me and he hadn't _stopped_, that must mean that… "He's in front of me," I gasped stupidly to myself, wrenching my head forward again.

My heart skipped a beat or twelve when I saw David waiting directly in my path. My reaction time was, of course, much too slow so, by the time that I realized that I had hardly any room to stop and turn away, I was already running head-long into David's chest.

It felt like I had just run into the base of a mountain.

David barely stumbled backwards when I collided with him. I, on the other hand, fell to the ground with a muted thud, the unforgiving nature of the sand sending painful reverberations up my back and into my neck. I was lucky that the force hadn't knocked the wind out of me because, if it had, I would have been totally immobilized. Regardless, I was left slightly dazed; for an instant, I couldn't quite remember why I had been running or where I was. I was sure of one thing, though: I was extremely furious with David for knocking me over.

I was just about to scream at him for getting in my way when I remembered what was going on. Casting David a glare that would have made the most macho of grown men cry—I rocketed backwards across the ground, getting caught up over my own limbs as I tried to pick myself up and dash off again. David, of course, had no patience for me and, after taking two quick strides to cover what little distance I had gained, reached down and grabbed me firmly around the waist. Before I knew what was going on, I was being wrenched through the sky and slung, fireman-style, over David's shoulder.

Everything happened so quickly that I had to take a glance around to understand what was going on. "What do you think you're doing?" I screeched, rebelling against the iron-clad grip that David had around my knees.

"I told you I would just bring you back," he growled as he towed me in the direction of the fire. "Why don't you ever listen to me? It's like talking to a rock…"

You're one to talk… "PUT ME DOWN!" I screamed, ignoring the insult to better concentrate on kicking my feet in the air. There would be time to ream him out for being snide later; what mattered now was getting down and off of the beach.

When kicking didn't get me put down, I turned to pounding my fists onto David's back. All that did was give me two very sore hands—I was still being carted across the sand towards a place I had no inclination of visiting. "David," I threatened, propping myself up against his back to scowl at the side of his head, "put me down or, I swear—"

"—Stop hitting me and keep your legs still," David growled, cutting my tirade short, "it's annoying when you squirm like that."

"Good!" I shouted, wriggling a little more for effect. "That means I'm doing my job!"

"Which is what, exactly?" he smiled, his mood shifting to the polar end of the 'Bitchy Man-ometer' in a second.

The pleased grin that he was wearing was so aggravating! This was hardly funny; I was being forced to do something against my will, not to mention that I was being carried like I was one of the spoils of some prehistoric caveman raid. "To annoy you as much as humanly possible," I snarled, pounding futilely on his shoulder again.

"Thought that was _my_ job," he teased, glancing up at me with a wink.

Oooh, you are such a smart ass. "I do it to you because you do it to me," I snapped. I wasn't going to deny the fact that it did seem like David's prime motive in life to make my existence a nightmare.

"Well at least we're treating each other equally."

"This is hardly equal! Do you think I enjoy being carried around like this?"

"I'm kinda liking this, actually," he chuckled, his voice full of the grin he was wearing.

"I'm not," I grumbled, desperately trying to ignore the pleasant vibrations David's laughter sent through my body. Now was hardly the time for acting like a silly little girl.

"This is the kind of stuff most women dream about," he said nonchalantly, shrugging underneath me. "Don't you think you should be thanking me or something?"

"I should be _thanking you?_" I balked, astounded by his blatant tone. "This is so undignified!" I hissed as I turned my torso away from him. I could feel a deep blush coming to my face and I didn't want David to see that I was embarrassed.

"Well," he said playfully, "if you had done what I told you—"

"—PUT ME DOWN!" I screamed, pounding my fists against his back like a five-year-old.

David laughed, tossing me slightly in the air to reposition me over his shoulder. "You'll just run off if I do."

"You catch on quickly," I hissed blackly, cramming my eyes shut to keep myself from exploding in a senseless tirade. Why did David have to be so smart! Would it have killed you, God, to give me _some kind_ of upper hand here? I mean I have nothing! I can't run faster than him, he's smart enough not to let me fool him twice _and_ he has a pretty face! I'M PRACTICALLY DEFENSELESS, HERE!

David laughed quietly as he came to a sudden stop, adjusting me one more time before swinging me down to the ground. The sudden change in altitude and position was a bit disorientating, leaving me unable to slip out from under David's hands before he took a firm grip on my shoulders.

Looking around, I noticed that we had covered all of the distance I had put between myself and the bonfire and then some: we were standing in the shadows just outside of the limited glow of the flames. The fire that had been raging when we had arrived had died down into almost nonexistence. I could only assume that the people that had created it were still around—if they weren't, David would have been acting a lot less civil—which was unnerving.

"Now, like I was saying before you took off," David grinned down at me, his voice eerily quiet, "I want you to pretend like you're lost."

"Why?" I hissed. The adrenaline that had been running through me was starting to wear off. My legs were throbbing dully and my ankle was starting to get weak. Being swept off of my feet for so long only compacted the problem, making my irritating symptoms come back much faster than they should have. It wasn't long after I acknowledged the pain that it started to effect my concentration.

David rolled his eyes dramatically, acting as if the answer should have been obvious. "Because it's the simplest explanation for you just showing up out of nowhere," he rushed.

"I don't know if you misunderstood the whole 'I'm not going to do this and you can't make me' spiel," I said acridly, trying my best to ignore the stabbing and tingling all over my body as it built to crippling levels, "but I'll repeat it for you, just for prosperity's sake: I'm not going to do this and you can't make me. I'm not going over there and I am most definitely not talking to those poor people."

David's face settled into a frown that made my skin crawl. "We'll see," he whispered, his voice icy. With one quick motion, David spun me around under his hands so that I was facing the dying bonfire. If I focused on the darkness on the other side of the fire pit, I could see two shapes—one larger and more muscular, obviously a man; the second the small and slender outline of a woman—resting on the ground. They were very still and made no sound; it didn't take a genius to know that they were asleep and, therefore, very easy targets.

My thoughts were all wrong: people were never 'easy targets'. Sleeping animals were easy targets but never _people_. I had never thought of another person like that until just a second ago. "Please don't do this to me, David," I whispered, suddenly very scared.

"I'm not asking you to run over there and decapitate them," David muttered, his head bowing slightly toward mine. I could feel him hovering just above me, his even breaths gently ruffling my hair. "I just want you to talk to them."

Talking to people had never been a problem for me, I was hardly what you would call 'shy'; I just wasn't certain that, if I got closer to the bonfire, I wouldn't be able to control myself. As much as I knew it was morally _wrong_ to want to hurt another person, I couldn't deny that I wanted to somewhere inside of myself. This realization sent the cage in the back of my mind rattling, the annoying voice it constrained breaking through my thoughts momentarily.

_…__ C'mon__, Flic …_

_ … It'll be easy…_

_ … They'll never know what hit them…_

_ … You know you __**want**__ to._

Shaking my head violently, I tried to focus on anything but the people before me—the moon, the sand, the ocean, _anything_ but the two dark outlines—but my eyes kept drifting back toward the ground where they lay, asleep. It was like a compulsion: I _had_ to look at the them—the woman in particular, it seemed. I found myself wondering what colour her hair was, what shape her eyes were, what perfume she wore… It was horrifying and satisfying at the same time, like I was watching the cow that my steak was going to come from be lead to the slaughterhouse and wondering if the meat would be tender in the same breath.

"I don't have time to wait for you to make up your mind anymore," David continued, all traces of emotion washing out of his voice; 'serious monotone' didn't suit him at all. "You're going to go over there and lie to them so that they start to trust you. Separate the man from the woman so I can take care of him."

"'T-Take _care of him_'?" I repeated stupidly, fighting against the strange sense of excitement that was slowing starting to build beneath my fear as David laid out his plan. It was wrong on so many levels. "What are you going to do to him?"

"That's not important. What is important is that you get the two of them apart; I don't care how you do it," David proceeded, artfully ignoring my questions, "just get it done. I'll come back to help you with the woman as soon as I can. Keep her occupied until then; I shouldn't be long, but I can't make any promises."

"I don't think I can do this," I whined, my words coming out all wrong. I had wanted to say that I '_couldn't_ do this' but it was like my brain and tongue weren't connected anymore. My head said 'go for it' while my morals said 'don't' and my head, being the more stubborn and insistent of the two, won. It probably didn't help that I was slowly being incapacitated by my own body and couldn't really concentrate, but that didn't change the fact that I said what I did.

David sighed heavily, the sound sad. Coupled with his body language—his hands relaxing ever so slightly on my shoulders, his head falling father forward so that his nose rested against my hair—I knew that he was just as unhappy about this whole mess as I was. It was comforting, in a rather… _twisted_ sense of the word. To know that there was even the slightest chance that David understood my side of things—that he knew how chaotic and frightened I was actually feeling and felt sorry for me—was nice. No sooner had David relaxed did he tense up again, his posture more rigid than before. "You have to, Felicia," David murmured, his voice cold and detached.

I attempted turning to face David but he had tightened his grip on me before I could really try. All I could manage was a feeble shake that was something substantially less than effective. "I can't—I don't know what to do—David, don't—you know I'll just screw this up—please, let's just go home," I spluttered, flipping through excuses so rapidly that even _I_ was left a little confused. There were a hundred-and-one reasons buzzing around inside of my head why I _shouldn't_ let David force me over to the dying flames but, the second they passed over my lips they sounded ridiculous. Nothing I would ever be able to come up with would be good enough. Part of me—and a rather large part at that—wanted to get nearer to the sleeping people.

"Knock 'em dead," David whispered, his voice deadpan, as he gave me a hard shove towards the fire.


	15. Chapter 15

**Fifteen**

I WENT FLAILING FORWARD with a startled yelp, stumbling into the glow of the fire and stopping just before I fell directly into the embers. To stop myself I had to place all of my weight on my bad ankle; the sudden increase in pressure on the strained tendons sent pain shooting like electricity up my spine, somehow managing to intensify the new aches in my shoulders and back that David had caused. The pain was so absolutely terrible that I couldn't stop myself from letting out another yell as my body tried to tear itself apart. Before I could even think about picking myself up and running away the two strangers woke with an understandable start.

What was left of the fire must have been giving off more light that I had initially thought. I had absolutely no trouble seeing the faces attached to the frantic eyes staring at me now that I was nearer to them. Through the darkness I could see that the woman was a flighty little thing. Her hair was a deep shade of gold, the colour made brighter by the deep tan she sported. The man's skin was equally dark with a tan but that was the only thing the two people shared in common. Instead of being blonde, the man's hair was a polar-opposite shade of black and he was also about twice the woman's size. Where I could have easily fit my entire hand around the woman's bicep, it would have taken both of my hands to stand a hope in Hell of getting halfway around the man's. He was a tower of muscle and looked like he could snap me in half if he ever had the desire to.

"Oh my goodness!" the little woman screamed, staring at me like I had three eyes and gills. "Who are you?"

"I think the better question is 'what are you doing here?'" the man demanded as he puffed out his already large chest. I was already slightly intimidated so the gesture was completely unnecessary.

"Uh, that is actually a fantastic question," I said quickly, stalling to try and come up with a reasonable explanation as to why I was there. Telling them that I was here as an accessory to murder _probably_ wasn't the best thing to do and making up some cockamamie story about falling out of the sky didn't seem like the best plan either. "I, um… I'm lost," I finally managed, spitting out the lie David had told me to use. The story, as simple as it was, sounded unbelievable even to me.

"That's terrible!" the little woman pined, her fear melting away instantaneously. "How can we help you?"

… You have got to be _kidding_ me!

I gawked at the woman, unable to believe what I was seeing and hearing. How could someone possibly be so trusting? Here I was, an undeniably frightening-looking half-human-half-someting-else—I refuse to use the word 'vampire' to describe myself—who practically appeared out of nowhere, and this woman was ready to believe anything I told her. I mean, how could someone be so stupid? It would take a special kind of _moron_ to just take a sop story, especially one as brilliant as mine, at face value.

… Hm, she sounds just like me: the trusting-idiot type. Fantastic; this is going to go wrong in a hurry.

"You don't have to help me. I'm-I'm sorry I bothered you," I stuttered as I pushed myself backwards through the sand, painfully shoving more grit into my palms. I was going to have to get away from these people quickly; if the woman really was as trusting as she appeared things were going to get out of hand before I knew it. My muscles burned with the effort but I managed to shimmy a foot or so away from the fire pit.

The woman shook her head sternly before motioning for me to come back. "If you're lost you should stay put and what better place than with Eric and I?"

"Holly," the man scolded, failing to keep his voice quiet as he glared down at her, "I don't know if that's the best idea. We don't know who she is." He shot me a quick, wary glance out of the corner of his eye before going back to pleading silently for his partner to listen to him. He obviously didn't trust me. I wouldn't have either.

Well at least one of you has a brain.

"Don't be silly, Eric," Holly, the woman, scolded as she smacked her boyfriend—or husband or whatever—on the arm, making me picture a kitten trying to play with a German shepherd. "She's lost; we can't just send her back out into the night. She could get more lost or, worse, hurt."

"It's really okay," I sputtered, failing to com up with a better reason as to why I should be left to my own devices. "I'll be fine. I can take care of myself."

"Nonsense," Holly dismissed. I had barely known this woman for five minutes and she was already treating me like a good friend. "You'll stay here with us and that's that. Eric," she continued without another breath, making it impossible for me to complain without talking over her, "go get what's left of the wood we brought and put it on the fire."

Eric cast me another look, daring me to try and hurt Holly, as he 'unintentionally ' flexed all of his muscles. "Sure thing, Hol'. I'll be back in a sec," he said, trying to sound happy. With one last glare in my direction, Eric seemed satisfied that I knew he could destroy me if he needed to so he got up and walked away from the fire.

It was only after he left the safety of the dying glow that I remembered what was waiting for him in the darkness. My heart started racing for fear that I had somehow managed to send Eric off to his death without even realizing it.

"So, what's your name?" Holly asked, waiving for me to come closer again. She was smiling politely, trying to entice me to relax; she really did mean well.

And David thought _I _was stupid on occasion…

I obliged her only so that I could see farther over her shoulder. I was looking for any sign of Eric, any indication that he was still alive. Surely, though, I would hear if something happened, right? The last time David had killed someone around me there had been a tremendous amount of noise. "I'm Felicia," I said absently, listening intently for any sound that might tell me something terrible had happened.

"That's a really pretty name," Holly enthused, trying to make conversation. "Where are you from?"

With each second that ticked by my heart began to race faster and faster. What was taking this Eric guy so long? Surely someone of his size couldn't get hurt by simply getting firewood and he didn't seem stupid enough to get lost that quickly. I mean he practically saw through me right away! "Thanks. I'm from Oklahoma," I lied, still peering over Holly's shoulder and into the darkness. David couldn't possibly have disposed of him already… could he?

"Really?" she laughed, politely nervous. "You don't sound like it."

"Yeah," I said not really thinking about what I was saying, "I just moved there a few years ago." Where on earth was Eric!

"Oh, I see; Eric—my husband—and I just recently moved to Nevada from New Mexico so I know how that is. Eric!" Holly called over her shoulder suddenly, turning away from me. "What's going on back there? Do you need help?"

There was a moment of silence before I heard a large grunt. My heart practically jumped out of my chest when everything went eerily quiet again. "Do you think he's okay?" I said, my voice a little _too _concerned as my thoughts raced towards the worst scenarios. Maybe David was in the process of strangling Eric. That would explain all of the grunting noises, wouldn't it? Or, what if David had just broken Eric's neck? Worse still, what if David was just starting to rip out Eric's throat! I had to suppress a shiver as the images of David brutally maiming the hulking mass of a human that was 'Eric' flashed through my head. There was no doubt that Eric was the one making the grunting noises; even though David was half of his size Eric didn't stand a chance against him.

"Oh, he's fine," Holly said quickly. "He'll be back shortly." Another moment of tense silence passed, my heart beating like a little steam engine, before there was another grunt. Not a second later, Eric came back into the glow of the fire with his arms so full of firewood that I couldn't see his face. To say I was relieved is a gross understatement; I felt like singing as he threw the wood down into the sand and then went about building the fire back to a reasonable level. He was in one piece and didn't look any worse for wear than before he had left.

"So where are you from, kid?" Eric said, his voice casual, as he arranged logs on the fire. It wasn't long before the flames were roaring high into the sky again, extending the circle of light that separated us from David.

"Her name is Felicia, Eric," Holly said lightly though I could hear the scolding just under her words, "and she's from Oklahoma. She just moved there so I was just telling her about how we moved from New Mexico not too long ago."

I was extremely happy that Holly had answered the question for me; I couldn't remember what answer I had given her or what we had been talking about in general. I had been so concerned about Eric not coming back that I had just said something without thinking (as usual). "Sounds about right," I joked, my mind racing ahead of the conversation. I had to come up with a way to get away without Holly and Eric following me. If I wasn't careful I would say something that would make things turn in a bad direction. Eric and Holly had to stay at the fireside if it killed me.

"So, what brings you all the way to California then?" Eric grunted as he sat back down next to Holly. He wrapped a protective arm around her shoulders, undoubtedly trying to show me that, if I wanted to hurt his wife, I would have to go through him.

Why do we have to talk about me? Can't we talk about the weather or something? "I'm just here on vacation," I fibbed again, massaging my hands against the warmth of the flames. My hands were dirty and very sore: the road rash on my palms was itching and stinging like there was no tomorrow. The pain, however, didn't just remain at the site of the cuts—it spread out to my fingers, lingering in my fingers like someone had rapped me over my knuckles with a metal ruler.

"Yeah, Eric and I come here every year too. It's so nice being near the ocean; I just can't get enough of it," Holly laughed. "We're building a summer home in Los Gatos."

"That's cool," I said, trying to sound interested. Truthfully, all I could think about were two things: the vengeful return of all my aches and pains and the impossible mission of getting away from Holly and Eric without them chasing after me. "Do you have family here?" I asked, trying to keep Holly talking so I wouldn't have to.

"No, both of our families live in Illinois; we move to New Mexico for the heat," Eric shrugged.

This is good: we're too far into talking about you two to get back to me. Now I just have to keep things that way. "Why'd you move to Nevada, then?" I inquired, never once taking my eyes off of my hands. "New Mexico's plenty hot, isn't it?"

"We moved to Las Vegas for Eric's job," Holly beamed, casting a quick glance up to Eric. "He's a foreman."

I quickly tried to think back to what little America history I had taken. From what I remembered—which wasn't much—there wasn't really anything _important_ that had been built around 1985 in Las Vegas. But, then again, I could have been (and probably was) wrong. "What are you building?"

"An amusement center, actually," Eric laughed. "The Wet 'n Wild park opened at the beginning of the summer so Hol' and I went on vacation early."

"Neat," I said, forcing a smile. I had no idea where to take the conversation next. "So, um… do you know anyone in town?" That had seemed like an innocent enough question inside of my head but I regretted saying the words the second they came out of my mouth.

"We have some friends up in Los Gatos but we like the atmosphere of Santa Carla better. It's quieter, safer," Holly sighed. "Speaking of friends, though, where's your family? It's late to be off on your own."

Why does this always happen to me! One little slip of the tongue and I'm all the way back to square one. "My family isn't here," I said slowly, trying to pick my words very carefully so I could try to rescue the failing situation. "They're back at home; I'm staying with some friends for the summer."

"Oh," Holly said, looking hopefully up at Eric. "So you were with other people before you got lost?"

… Fuck. "Yes," I equivocated, the guilt I was starting to feel only adding to my poor acting performance, "we got separated back that way." I motioned vaguely over my shoulder in a random direction. I didn't care where I pointed, it wasn't like it mattered anyway.

Eric looked to where I had pointed, his face determined though for all the wrong reasons. I could read him like a book: he was ecstatic that I had given him a way to get rid of me. He knew that I was trouble even though he couldn't quite explain it. The funny part was that he had no idea how right he was. "I'll go look for them. There aren't very many people out here at this hour so, if they're still around, I'm sure they'll hear me calling."

"No!" I said a little too quickly, panicking at the thought of Eric going off on his own. This is exactly what David wanted and I had done it without even trying. In all actuality, I had been trying to _keep_ him around and now Eric was offering to run off without the slightest provocation. "Just stay here," I begged, "we've hardly met; it'll be best if we all just stay. I don't want you to get hurt because of me."

Eric and Holly both laughed, the much smaller woman placing her tiny hand on Eric's gigantic bicep. "Don't worry, Eric can take care of himself. He'll only be gone a minute. Besides, the sooner we get you back with your friend's the better; I'm sure they're worried about you."

You have no idea how terribly wrong you are. "Please, stay here," I said quietly, pleading to Eric with my eyes. I couldn't very well give him a different reason to stay—the truth would have sent _both _Holly and Eric running.

"I'll be back in a minute, Hol'," Eric said tenderly, kissing the much smaller woman atop her head. The love in his eyes sent a tidal wave of guilt crashing over me; if anyone was a monster it was me, not David. Even with all the inadvertent lying I had done, I had made Eric believe that he was helping me and, in my opinion, that was the real dirty work. David was just finishing the job that I had so carelessly started.

Agilely heaving himself upright, Eric walked around the fire and headed off in the direction I had so carelessly indicated. As I watched him disappear into the night I took comfort in the fact that he was going in the completely opposite direction of David. Maybe, if Eric was lucky, David wouldn't find him.

I knew my hopes were foolish even before I thought about them. David would know where Eric was before Eric did; the poor guy probably wouldn't know what hit him. Even though David was about half of Eric's size it wasn't a question of who would win if the two of them met up, it was a question of how long Eric could fight to stay alive. I felt ill to my stomach just thinking about it.

A moment or two passed before I heard Eric start calling. I had no idea what he was saying but it wasn't long before his voice grew distant and inaudible, the sounds swallowed up by the crashing of the surf. The popping and crackling of the fire filled the lull in the conversation as I thought about what was probably happening off in the distance.

Eric would have had a little bit of head start against David but all the racket he was making would tell David exactly where he was. It wouldn't be long after that when David would sneak up behind him and kill him. Maybe it would be quick and David would just break his neck. I desperately hoped that, whatever terrible thing happened to Eric, it wasn't too painful for him.

… Oh God, I am so _sick_.

"Don't look so worried," Holly soothed, the noise bringing me out of the darkness of my thoughts. "Eric's a big guy; he'll be fine. He knows the beach well."

He may know the beach well but he has no idea what's coming after him. "It's not that simple," I said blackly, my voice barely over a whisper.

Holly looked taken aback when I looked from the flames to her face. "What do you mean?"

"It's just that…" I trailed off, debating whether I should tell her to run. It probably wouldn't be hard to convince her that I was insane and that she shouldn't spend another second around me if she wanted to live but I didn't want her to leave. The stupid thoughts that hovered in the back of my head wanted her to stay near me and wait for David to come. The thought of David returning to 'help me' deal with Holly made my stomach squirm with worst kind of pleasant anticipation.

"Just what?" Holly said sternly, her voice coloured with concern. It seemed like she was finally catching onto Eric's trepidations about me.

What do I say? _Well, I guess it's about time that I come clean with you. You see, I was sent here to get you and your husband killed. Oh, and did I mention that I might end up drinking your blood when my friend gets here? I don't really think I want to but there's no telling what's going to end up happening once he gets here. One thing's for certain, though: you __**are**__ going to end up dead._ "It's just that, well—" I paused, biting my lip. Holly nodded to me, encouraging me to explain. "Well… I just don't think that he's going to find them. My friends are elusive when they don't want to be found."

Holly laughed loudly, her mounting worries vanishing instantly. She really did trust me too much. "That's fine. Trying never hurt anyone."

It's about to hurt Eric unless a miracle happens. And, from my experience, God's not so into the whole 'granting miracles' business lately. "I hope you're right," I muttered, occupying myself with staring into the fire.

Time ticked by slowly. When Eric hadn't returned after about five minutes, Holly started to get worried. I could tell that she was trying to be discrete about it but I noticed every single time that she checked in the direction Eric had gone. At first, she did it about once or twice a minute but, as Eric's absence neared the ten minute mark, she started checking every ten seconds or so.

"What do you think is taking him so long?" she mused to herself after turning her eyes back to the fire. I had been tossing logs onto it when needed so the flames were still quite lively.

By this point there was no question that a rather miserable fate had befallen Eric. I knew he was dead and that David had been the one that killed him. The worst part of it all was that it was because of my tactlessness that he had gotten hurt. "This is exactly why I wanted him to stay here," I cried, burying my face in my ruined hands.

"I'm sure he just got turned around or something," Holly said, trying to keep her voice light despite the worry that plagued her.

"I wouldn't be so sure of that," a voice foreign to the conversation said, it's tone smugly satisfied. I didn't have to look up to see who was attached to the sound; I would have recognized it anywhere: it was David.

Wrenching my gaze upward when Holly gasped, I saw David standing there behind her with the tiny silver switch blade from two nights ago pressed to the tanned flesh of her neck. He wasn't covered in blood—thank goodness—but the pleased look on his face was enough to tell me that he had 'taken care' of Eric without any problems.

"Oh God," Holly sobbed, wincing when David pressed the knife harder against her flesh. "Please," she continued to panic when David didn't release her, "just let me go. Don't hurt me!"

"It's a little late for that," David said with a hint of a laugh, smiling at me when he noticed me gaping, wide-eyed, at him.

Instead of keeping my focus on David, I made the mistake of glancing to Holly's frantic eyes. She was edging on tears as she continued to try and back away from the blade though it remained glued against her throat. "Help me!" she pleaded at me, her voice hysterical.

David chuckled, his eyes rolling slightly towards the sky. Undoubtedly he had heard this same song and dance so many times before that it just seemed ridiculous. "Why would she want to help you? She's the one who's going to kill you. Isn't that right, Felicia?"

I could feel David looking at me but I couldn't take my eyes off of Holly. She was openly crying now but her eyes never once strayed from mine, silently pleading for me to do something. It didn't occur to me that I was shaking my head until my neck started to hurt. "I can't," I whispered, appalled.

"No!" Holly cried, a hundred realizations and emotions flickering across her face. You didn't have to be psychic tell that she was looking back over the last little while, putting together all of the ques that Eric had picked up on and she hadn't. I dropped my eyes to the sand when, finally, she glared at me, betrayal screaming from her eyes.

"Yes," David said, his voice stoney. "Look, Felicia," he grumbled, turning his attention on me, "this will go a lot quicker if you just do what I tell you to. You don't want this poor woman to suffer, right?"

Why would anyone was another person to suffer? Sure, I had wished painful deaths on people I didn't like before but I was never really serious. "Of course not," I said down to the sand, guilt gnawing heavily at my stomach. I may not have wanted for Holly to suffer but there were parts of me that wanted to kill her and that was much, much worse.

"Then get over here," David hissed through bared teeth.

"No," I whined back to my shoes, sounding like a child that didn't want to eat her broccoli.

"I'll make you, then," he growled back, the sound so menacing that I looked up to see David's face. It took only a quick glance into his eyes to see that his threat was very real. I had no idea what he was planning on doing to get me to move but I didn't doubt that it was going to be violent.

I watched, slightly confused, as David raised his leg. It seemed like an odd thing to do until I saw where he was aiming. Before I could scream in protest there was a sickening crunch as David's foot collided with the back of Holly's left knee. The bloodcurdling scream that she let out hurt my ears so badly that I flinched. "Beg her to kill you," David snarled, his eyes boring into mine like fragments of ice.

"No!" Holly wailed, her voice shrill with terror. Despite just having her leg viciously broken, she made a valiant effort to try and pull free of David's hands. It didn't work, of course, but it was still impressive. For a moment she looked like she had gone crazy—her eyes were wild as she trashed against the force of the knife on her throat—but it didn't last long. A fraction of a second later she was back to blubbering for her life, the sound made worse because of her injury.

"Do it," David growled, placing his head mere inches from Holly's ear once she settled, "or I will break your other leg." The anger in his voice was frightening; I had seen this side of David back in Max's store. I had been sure, then, that I never wanted to see him so… _feral_ again and this only solidified my earlier realizations. Just listening to him speak was enough to make me shrink with terror.

"Please don't," Holly cried at me, flinching when David pressed the blade of his knife harder against her neck. "Please!"

"Then beg," he snapped before looking over to me again. I could do nothing more than stare at him, utterly mortified. His eyes were so cold and determined that a shiver ran up my spine. "Because," David continued, still whispering threats into Holly's ear as though he continued to look at me, "if Felicia doesn't, _I_ will and, trust me, it will hurt a lot more that way."

Holly sobbed loudly, fresh tears streaking down her immaculate cheeks. "No," she choked through her sobs, her tone one of utter desperation.

I watched, mortified, as David raised his foot again and, without the slightest bit of hesitation, slammed his boot against Holly's good leg. The bones splintered with a sickening crunching, popping noise, the sound resonating clearly in my ears under the fresh wave of agonized screams that issued from Holly's mouth. "BEG HER TO KILL YOU!" David roared, slamming Holly down, crashing her destroyed knees into the sand.

"Please," she gasped at me, the pain David had caused her knocking the air from her lungs.

"BEG!" David commanded again as he glared at me, pressing the knife he held against Holly's throat threateningly hard against her jugular.

"Please!" she screamed at the top of her lungs, even though her eyes telling a completely different story. She didn't want me to touch her and she most definitely didn't want to die; Holly was just saying what David wanted her to in an attempt to keep him from hurting her more.

My legs felt as if they were on fire I was tensing my muscles so tightly. Every breath Holly took, every sob she made, every word she screamed compelled me to draw closer to her. She was so weak, so frail; it would be nothing to just walk over to her and do what she was asking me. And, after all, she was _asking_ me to kill her, wasn't she? That made it not so wrong. How could I feel guilty when she wanted me to take her life?

Horrified at my own thoughts, I violently shook my head a few times as if I could dislodge them permanently from my head. "No," I said defiantly, locking my knees more firmly. I was going to stay here, safely on the other side of the fire, come hell or high water.

"Why do you have to be so _stubborn_?" David hissed at me as he pushed down against Holly's shoulders with his free hand, forcing her harder against the ground. She screamed so loudly out of pain that I doubted David would be able to hear anything I said next.

"Because someone has to be," I cried, the sound of Holly's screams making me cringe. "I haven't made up my mind yet!"

"There isn't time for you to make up your mind!" he yelled back at me as Holly dissolved into loud, tortured sobs.

The connotation behind his words threw me slightly off. "I have lots of time," I challenged.

"No," David spat, fresh anger alighting his eyes. I would have been more frightened of him but his reaction was tainted by something much too close to sadness for my taste. "I'm telling you that you don't," he continued, hardening his expression into a fearsome mask. "Why can't you just listen to me?"

"Why do you never listen to me?" I retorted, balling my fists at my side. "I'm telling you that I don't want to do this but you're doing everything in your power to try and _force_ me into a decision. If anyone needs to listen it's you!"

"I don't have time for this," David growled, glaring down at the top of Holly's head as she continued crying under his grip. I didn't like the way he was eyeing her, like he was trying to decide what he could do to cause her more agony.

Moving so fast that I barely saw what was going on, David took a fist-full of her hair with his free hand, wrenched back Holly's head and drew the tiny silver blade across her flesh. The blood streamed, hot and alluring from the superficial wound, the smell making my body ache with what I can only describe as 'hunger pains'. It took everything in me to keep from launching through the flames to reach Holly's exposed throat.

"Stop resisting it," David barked, dropping the knife to the sand once his handwork was finished. He hadn't really _slit _Holly's throat—he had just made a rather nice cut all the way from one ear to the other—so she continued to bawl and scream, the sound amplified to a point where it was getting hard to hear myself think.

"Don't make me do this!" I reeled, trying to back away even though my feet wouldn't listen to me anymore. It was like they were cemented to the ground, keeping me painfully close yet mercifully far away from Holly's blood.

"If you don't do this now," David hissed over Holly's feeble cries, his eyes flashing with a mix of emotions that I couldn't begin to label, "you'll die."

"What?" I gasped, his words throwing me completely off guard. I had been expecting something along the lines of 'do this because I tell you to' not 'do this because of this extremely good reason'. A feather could have knocked me over I was suddenly so confused. Since when did vampires have an expiration date?

David screwed up his face, deliberating whether he should explain or not. A moment of quiet passed between us, the only sound Holly's dry weeping. "If you don't complete the change tonight you'll die in two days," he finally muttered, the emotionally-fueled fire behind his eyes hardening into ice.

"How is that possible?" I whispered, unable to keep myself from getting distracted. I had been under the impression that I had a very long time to make up my mind—well, at least that's what David had led me to believe. This new little tidbit of rather _vital i_nformation would have been nice to know a while ago; I would have put a lot more effort into coming up with my choice instead of milling over an answer.

"I don't know, it just is," David muttered, casting a dark glance from me to the top of Holly's head. I had been around him long enough to know that he was keeping something from me: he always averted his eyes from mine when he lied.

"This is hardly a time for half-truths," I growled, upset that he could be so callously evasive.

Instead of responding, David turned his head toward the sky and let out a growl of extreme frustration. "We can talk about this after, just get down on your knees! It will be a lot easier to explain what's going on if you're not _dead_."

So, we've gone from talking about committing murder and lying to demanding sexual favours in less than thirty-five words. That's got to be some kind of record… "What!" I demanded, disgusted. "How could you say something like that at a time like this?"

"Do you have any idea where you're standing?" David laughed, the sound honestly amused. Apparently, we weren't quite on the same page of this conversation because there was no way on earth that what _I_ was talking about was funny. Well, it was either that or David was a lot more twisted than I had first thought. "Look around," he prodded, eyeing me disbelievingly.

"Of course I know where I'm standing," I growled. "What kind of stupid-ass question is that?" When David continued to smile at me I took a quick glance around. That was when I noticed that I was most definitely _not_ where I thought I was. The fire was behind me instead of in front of me and David and Holly were a mere four feet away. I had been so totally focused on the change of conversation that I hadn't left enough of my concentration to monitor my muscles. I had unconsciously walked all the way around the fire, my body automatically giving in to all the reactions and desires that I had been suppressing.

"You tricked me!" I hissed, backing a half-step away. If anyone was to blame for this it was me but David didn't need to know that. It was better if I pushed this on him: it made it easier to believe that I didn't want to kill poor little Holly; that I didn't want to kneel next to her and cradle her ruined neck in my hands and drain every last drop of blood from her body. A shiver of desire ran up my spine as I thought of ending Holly's life. It was unsettling and made my body ache terribly.

"No I didn't," David said, his eyes rolling ever so slightly. "Come closer."

Taking in a deep breath to keep arguing was one of the worst things I could have done. Holly had only been bleeding for a few short minutes but the air was already thick with the smell of her blood. My throat burned as the air whistled down it, the new scent overwhelming every other sense. All I could think about was the smell of the blood and how enticing it was. I was suddenly filled with an urge to close the short gap between Holly and I that was so intense I shuffled forward about three feet before I managed to regain control of myself.

With each second that ticked by it got harder and harder to resist the sight of the wound on Holly's neck. Just looking at it made my stomach tingle, like I was nervous about kissing someone for the first time, and that tingling inspired a host of other feelings within me. It made the hunger pains in my stomach worse and made my body ache more intensely. It was like every fibre of me was demanding me to get closer, to smell, to taste, to drink…

Well… maybe David was right. Getting a little closer—just close enough to _smell _better—wouldn't hurt anyone, especially not Holly. I would sniff the wound and that was all; maybe that—smelling the blood up close—would be enough to settle my body into a more manageable state.

"Good," David breathed, profoundly relieved, as I advanced the remaining two feet that separated us. When I was standing directly next to Holly, he motioned for me to kneel next to her. "I'll keep a hold on her hair just until you get started."

"I'm not going to hurt her," I growled as I dropped mechanically to my knees. This felt so utterly wrong in some ways and totally right in others. It was enough to make my head spin.

"Please, don't," Holly begged again, fighting feebly against the iron grip David had on her scalp. She tried to turn her head to look at me but couldn't. "Please, I'll do anything!"

I wanted to tell her that everything would be alright but I couldn't make the words come out. It was becoming apparent that I was rapidly losing control over myself; I didn't know how much longer I would be able to keep myself composed. So, instead of speaking, I slowly inclined my head closer to her. Holly whimpered as I neared, obviously afraid that I was going to hurt her. Hesitating mere inches above her skin, I paused before allowing myself to take in a deep breath through my nose.

The hot salt-and-metal fragrance that seeped from the gash on Holly's neck sent my body alight with the most intense desire and need I had ever experienced. It was like the most delicious fire was scorching through my nose, down my throat and into my stomach, setting my insides ablaze. My mouth watered instantly and my hands began to tremble; I had to fight to keep them at my sides so I wouldn't reach out and latch onto Holly and pull her closer.

"Please," Holly whispered, her voice thick with tears, "please don't kill me. I don't want to die!"

I was so close to Holly's throat that I could feel the tiny vibrations of her muscles as she spoke. Cramming my eyes closed, I turned my head slightly away from Holly and towards David. I had intended on backing away completely but my body wouldn't listen to me anymore; it was like I was being pulled by a chain towards the blood before me. "I can't do this, David," I hissed, the effort it took to keep still increasing with every second. "It's wrong."

"C'mon, Felicia," David said sternly, though his voice melted slightly around the edges. It was impossible to miss the pleading exposed there. Trouble was that it made it very difficult for me to refuse him. He was worried about me even though he wouldn't really show it and, if David was worried for me, that meant that I probably should be too.

"I can't," I whined, struggling to keep away from the heat of Holly's flesh. I wanted desperately to nestle my face against her neck and let her body warm my skin. Being so close to her had made me realize how cold I was; my skin felt like ice in comparison.

Instead of ranting about how I was being ridiculously stubborn, David let out a long sigh. "I didn't want to have to come to this," David muttered, his voice heavy with regret, "but you're leaving me without another choice."

Popping my eyes open, I leaned back every so slightly to look up at him. David's face was set in a deep frown that tugged at every square inch of my heart: he looked like he was being forced to condemn his soul-mate to death. "Come to what?" I asked stupidly, trying my hardest to keep looking at him instead of focusing back on Holly's neck.

"To this," he whispered before flashing me an apologetically sad smile.

I had hardly registered that David was moving before his hand slammed into the back of my head. Everything else after that happened extremely quickly: one second I was hovering over Holly and the next I was being forced toward the wound on her neck. My reaction time much too slow, I opened my mouth to gasp just as David pushed my face directly against the seeping wound.

The pressure of my lips against the gash sent blood flooding into my mouth. It took everything I had within me to keep from swallowing immediately. The taste was maddening! Salty, savoury and sweet all in one, the hot liquid washed over my tongue in the most refreshing way. It wasn't until that moment that I realized it but the relief the taste brought was astounding: it was like having a drink of water after being stuck in a desert for five-hundred years. Every part of me screamed for me to swallow but I couldn't bring myself to do it.

"Swallow," David urged, his voice a strange mixture between guilt and annoyance.

I tried pushing back against David's grip but he only shoved me harder against Holly's neck. She whimpered under the pressure of my face against her neck and tried to shy away but David held her head firmly in place. Every move that Holly made blood rush faster from her neck and over my waiting lips. The only problem was that, because she was struggling almost as hard as I was, the amount of 'free space' left in my mouth was rapidly diminishing.

Well, shit.

I needed to get away from her so I could spit out what was in my mouth. There was no way that I was actually going to drink it—even though that would have been the easiest thing to do—and I wasn't about to just spill it all over myself. This may not have been the best time to worry about my clothes but I didn't want to ruin what little personal possessions I had. Don't ask me why this was suddenly so important because I really have no answer for that, it just was.

Panicked, I struggled under David's hand as he continued to hold me down. He had such a tight hold of my head and neck that I couldn't even separate my lips from Holly's flesh. My struggling obviously hurt her because she cried out in pain every time I moved. And, aside from hurting Holly, squirming around really did _me_ no good either; it just made more blood pour into my mouth.

"Trust me, Felicia," David growled, gritting his teeth with the effort it took to keep my body under his control, "it's easy once you get started. All you have to do is _swallow!_"

Easy for you to say! All I could manage in response was a muffled, gurgling moan that didn't really sound much like anything. When thrashing against David again produced no results, I tried to push Holly away from me. He must have known what I was planning before I did because that, too, did nothing. David simply held the two of us more securely together making Holly scream loudly.

By this time, my mouth was so full of blood that it was just about pouring out from between my lips and that, unfortunately, meant that I _had_ to swallow. Internally bracing myself for what would happen—because I really had no idea what to expect—I let the hot liquid run down my throat.

Drinking blood was one of the most amazing sensations I had ever felt. My insides tingled fiercely, the feeling warm and pleasant like someone had placed a tiny sun in my stomach. The feeling built quickly and exploded throughout me sending my skin alight with electricity. My entire body was singing with energy, right down through my bones to my cells and it felt _fantastic_. I was warm, refreshed, excited and relaxed all at once and yet all I could think about was one thing: _more_.

I wanted—no, _needed—_more of Holly's blood. The single—albeit rather large—mouthful I had allowed myself wasn't nearly enough to satisfy the desires and needs raging within me. With each second I hesitated instead of taking another drink the warmth and tingling subsided, a horrid dry ache left in its wake. I hurt all over, right down to the tips of my fingers and toes, the new irritating sensations painful reminders of how I had been feeling over the past few days. The difference between those terrible memories and how I had been feeling up until a moment ago was so profound that there was no denying which one I would rather live with.

Apparently, David had been right: drinking blood _was_ going to help me feel better. I hated to admit it but he knew what he was talking about… for once.

I think David said something to me at this point but I was so focused on deliberating between suffering and drinking that I couldn't hear anything. Not Holly's terrified screams, not David's undoubtedly snide remarks, not the roar of the ocean. Nothing. All that existed now was Holly's blood and me. David could have been screaming at me that the world was coming to an end but I didn't care. Whatever was outside of my tiny, blood-driven world was by no means important enough to distract me now.

A harsh shiver ran down my spine as I sucked in deep breath through my nose. The perfume of Holly's skin mixed with the tang of her blood clouded my head making it impossible to concentrate. I had been on the verge of coming up with a good reason why I should try to pull myself away but now I couldn't remember what it was. The new delicious smells had instantly sent my brain into overdrive, throwing all reason out the window.

There was no way I could resist the smell and taste of the blood for much longer. Each second that ticked by saw another shred of my humanity slip away and be replaced by a feral instinct that I had no idea I possessed. It was strangely freeing and exhilarating not to think about anything. My brain didn't hamper what my heart knew I needed and wanted. There was no indecision make me nervous, no worry to hold me back. There was just me and my instincts and my instincts were telling me to drink, to kill.

_ More! More! MORE!_ My body screamed, aching in anticipation as blood pooled in my mouth a second time. The taste sent adrenaline coursing through me, my heart racing off at a million miles an hour. The sudden jolt to my system was all it took for me to lose what little control I had left.

Frantic and unable to restrain myself any longer, I grabbed onto Holly with both hands, even going to far as to dig my nails slightly into her skin. Don't ask my why but I was suddenly very afraid that she was going to try and run away from me. Crushing her forcefully to my chest—to keep her close and also to keep her from struggling—I bit down on the gash David had made with a tiny snarl, gnawing through the remaining skin and deep into the muscle.

Fresh blood gushed forth in a torrent, spilling over my lips so quickly that I was afraid I might spill. Cramming my lips tighter around the hole I had made, I greedily swallowed every drop of the nectar that issued from Holly's dying body. My insides were practically singing with warmth and energy as blood ran down my throat and I became terrified when the tide began to ebb. Drawing harder against the wound, I frantically tried to make more blood come out. It worked at first but, after a few short seconds, the flow began to decrease again, dropping swiftly to the point where almost nothing was coming out. Desperate for more, I let out a little cry as the last drops of Holly's blood fell onto my lips. After that, there was nothing more to be had: I had drained her completely dry.

Shoving Holly's corpse away from me, I shuffled backwards through the sand. It was like the world came crashing back around me, everything that I had just thought, felt and done slamming into perspective. I had just killed someone and drank their blood and _I had liked it._

"Oh my God," I cried, unable to take my eyes off of Holly's lifeless body, "what have I done!" She was so pale and white as she lay there, motionless, in the sand. The roaring glow of the fire cast eerie shadows over her face, intensifying the terror-stricken and pained expression that it was forever frozen in. Looking at her made my stomach churn and, even though I felt full enough to burst, I knew there was nothing inside of me to vomit up.

"Relax," David laughed, his voice triumphant, happy, smug and relieved all at once "You look like you're going to be sick. Breathe." There was no doubt that he was wearing his usual smile—I could tell that he was by the sound of his voice—but I couldn't take my eyes off of Holly's corpse to check.

I hadn't realized I had stopped breathing until David said something. "What have I done?" I repeated, inhaling with a gasp. I nearly screamed when my eyes fell on the gaping hole that was on the side of Holly's neck. My teeth had sliced through the flesh in a perfect oval leaving garish red holes behind. The damage I had inflicted was so terrible that it was impossible to see where David had made the initial cut with his knife.

It was absolutely gruesome. Watching David and the others kill the late-night partiers was nothing in comparison. Hearing those people scream and watching them perish had been terrible enough but this was worse. _I_ had done this. _I_ had acted like a monster. _I_ had savagely ended the life of someone who had tried to help me.

Forget _acting_ like a monster, I _was_ a monster.

"You haven't done anything wrong," David snapped, suddenly very angry. It took a substantial amount of effort, but I managed to tear my eyes away from the corpse before me to look at him. His eyes were narrow and fierce and his mouth was drawn in a tight line, all traces of the happiness that had been in his voice gone completely. David was disappointed with me.

… Wait a minute. And just _who_ do you think you're talking to?

Who was David to talk to me like that? I had just done everything he wanted me to—well, not exactly with a willing, 'gung ho' attitude but whatever—and now he was yelling at me for reacting like any sane person would. "You have no right to be mad at me," I barked, his tone making me forget, if only for a second, what had just happened. "I'm sorry for responding normally but this—" here I motioned to the corpse with a shudder "—is a little much!"

"This is what you are; you need to get used to that," he retorted blackly. "And if the body is bothering you, get rid of it. "

I balked at David, astonished that he could be so callous. "How can you say that? A corpse isn't something you… 'get rid of'!"

David let out a quick, sarcastic burst of laughter before going back to glaring at me. "It is if you don't want to expose yourself—not to mention the rest of us. Secrecy is key," he concluded flatly, sounding like he was repeating something that had been told to him a long time ago.

Crossing my arms, I stuck my nose slightly in the air; this was something that I was definitely not going to budge on. "I'm not going to just toss her into the fire," I retorted stubbornly.

"Well I'm not going to wait around for you to dig a hole," David growled.

"I have no problem waiting for you to do it."

"You're going to be waiting here for a long time, then."

"Says who?" I barked. "I'm not having any more part in this! I didn't want to kill anyone to begin with and then you went and forced her on me. If anyone should have to do any work you should!"

"I'm not the one who benefited from her death," David said pointedly, that triumphant-happy-smug-relieved tone surfacing again from under his mounting frustration. "You seem to be feeling a lot better to be arguing so much."

"Well…" I started, my words faltering as I stopped to think about what David had said. Taking a quick mental inventory, I found that he was (sadly) right again. I didn't feel sore anywhere. Every muscle in my body should have been in tremendous agony after the amount of energy I had expended over Holly but I couldn't feel a single sore spot anywhere. My arms and legs felt strong like they had before I had appeared in Santa Carla and I didn't feel tired. In fact, I was so full of energy that I was starting to shake. I should have been writhing on the floor in tears not feeling… _normal._

"Well?" he pressed, his smile making another brief appearance. "Do you feel better?"

"So what if I do?" I snapped. "That has nothing to do with this."

"Why should I clean up your mess?" David growled, the good humor he had been sporting vanishing almost as quickly as it had appeared.

"Because this is your fault!" I roared back. "If you hadn't pushed me, Holly would still be alive right now!"

"Fine," he muttered, his voice resigned. "I'll do it for you—just this once."

I watched, still slightly appalled, as David deftly lifted Holly's corpse without the slightest hesitation from the ground and tossed it onto the fire. The flames died down for a moment before roaring back to life with more vigor than they had possessed before. I forced myself to look into my lap instead of watching: I didn't need _real_ memories of watching someone as they were cremated, their eyes accusing me of all the wrong I had done. The images I had seen in my dreams were plenty horrifying.

A heavy silence fell over David and I, the only sound the crackling and sizzling of the fire. Not really in the mood for conversation, I traced a nonsense pattern on the side of my shoe. I needed something—_anything_—to keep from going back to the dark thoughts that hung just on the fringes of my mind.

I knew what I had done and acknowledged it, but I couldn't accept the feelings and other realizations that were attached to my actions. Killing Holly and drinking her blood had not only felt good but right, too. My body had reacted to her blood like I should have reacted to food: I felt full, satisfied and happy. Content, even. David really _had_ been right—killing had made me feel better. I wasn't in pain anymore and could function like a normal… whatever I was without hoping to fall asleep every two seconds. I felt like _myself_ for the first time in days and it was very refreshing.

Even though all of that was great—and it really was nice to feel like myself again—the fact that I had hurt another person to feel better was wrong. Murder, whether necessary for survival or not, went against every moral I had and I wasn't going to throw those out the window just because I was feeling better. If anything, feeling better was all the more reason to put up a better fight. I had lots of energy to waste and arguing with David always seemed to leave me drained.

"Get up," David muttered, the weariness in his voice catching my attention. I looked up from knees to his face, bypassing the fire completely. He was gazing down intently into the flames, brow furrowed into the hard frown he had worn just before he had smacked me in the back of the head.

"I don't know if I can," I said, the statement coming out as more of a question than anything else.

David flashed me a quick disbelieving stare out of the corner of his eye before looking back to the blaze before him. "You can. Stop stalling and get up."

The abrasiveness of his words caught me off guard. "Who said I was stalling?" I snapped, glaring at David even though he wasn't paying any real attention to me.

"Do you see anyone else around?" he said curtly, looking at me for another split second. "Because, unless I'm mistaken, I'm the only person here to talk to you."

"Thanks, Einstein," I growled. "I'm not stupid and you know what I meant."

"Well," David drawled, finally turning his back on the fire completely and facing me, "get up, then."

I continued glaring at him, happy that he could see I was mad at him. "Maybe I won't just to spite you."

David huffed loudly, returning my angry stare. "I don't have time for this."

"Then leave," I shrugged, relaxing back on my arms. "I don't mind staying here."

"You want to stay here, next to the fire?" David scoffed, implications jumping out from between his words. "I find that hard to believe."

Well, now that you put it that way…

I stole a quick glance at the fire, keeping my eyes away from the base of the flames. Staying here meant staying with the body that I could barely look at and that was hardly a good idea. "Well… Whatever," I mumbled, unable to produce a better come-back. I shot David a quick scowl before staring down at my shoes.

I swore I heard David mutter something that sounded an awful lot like 'Don't know how I get myself into this kinda shit' before he took a few steps towards me. "Get up," David said loudly, obviously trying to keep his voice civil. I looked back up just as he extended his arm out to me.

Glaring at his hand and then up to his face, I resisted the urge to push him away. If David was trying to be peaceable maybe I needed to try too. "I don't need your help," I said, my voice nowhere near the definition of 'amiable'.

David rolled his eyes and brandished his hand at me again. "Just take my hand, would ya? You said you need help, so here I am."

"I never _said_ I needed help," I grumbled, still glaring at him, "and, from my experience, your help isn't really the kind of help I should be looking for."

Dropping his hand to his side, David sighed at me. All traces of anger washed out of his face only to be replaced by a deep sense of hurt. The honest display of pain only lasted for a moment before it too vanished, covered up with another frustrated frown. That didn't matter, though, I had seen enough to feel bad for speaking my mind. "There wasn't another option," David said, his voice steely, "I did what I had to."

"There's always another choice," I said, repeating what I had told him when we had sat together just the other night. The only difference this time was that I didn't believe the words were true. It's strange how quickly things can change over the course of a day. Just last night I had believed there was a way for me to work around this and, tonight, I knew that wasn't true. David was right: I really didn't have any other choice to bank on.

"Exceptions exist to every rule," David shrugged. A heartbeat of silence passed before he stuck his hand back out to me, his eyes pleading under the ruse of an impatient scowl. "Take my hand."

Yes, because you would know all about that. "Well I hope you're not expecting a big 'thank you' because I'm going to choke and die on the words before I give you one," I muttered before taking David's hand and letting him pull me to my feet. If what David had said earlier was true, he had just saved my life and, if that didn't deserve a big thank you, I don't know what did. I tried to hold eye contact with him but I was suddenly feeling so embarrassed that I had to look downward again.

"Don't ever thank me for anything," he whispered back fiercely. Placing a gloved finger delicately under my chin, he gently raised my eyes to his. Somewhere between guilt and disgust, his icy blue orbs were hard with emotion and, even though I couldn't quite label it, I felt bad for him. He held his hand against my skin for a moment before dropping his arm like he had been burned.

Ignoring the awkwardness that settled over us, I acted like nothing had happened. I mean, sure, it was the first time David had touched me like that since what felt like forever and I instantly felt like touching him back, but… whatever. Totally not important right now. This night had been intense enough without adding other emotions to the mix… "Well that's going to be kind of hard," I murmured, trying to lighten David's obviously grey mood. The intense nature of his emotions were always hard for me to bear, especially when he was feeling badly. I wanted desperately—and stupidly—to make him smile again.

I'm a push-over, I know. It's utterly pathetic.

My poor attempt at a joke must have worked because David rolled his eyes dramatically as he relaxed. "I didn't mean that literally."

I shrugged, intensely relieved that he was happier again, even if it was only on the outside. "It's not my fault you said what you did. You should pick your words more carefully."

David cocked an eyebrow at me, his crooked smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. "Are you trying to tell me to watch what I say?"

"Maybe I am, maybe I'm not," I said, playfully ambiguous. "That's for me to know and you to figure out."

"Or you could just tell me and get it over with," he countered.

"That ruins the game," I huffed.

David laughed loudly, the sound odd against the heavy mood that loomed just out of sight over top of us. "You are feeling better," he continued to chuckle, speaking to himself more than me.

"So what if I am?" I said defensively.

"Let's go home," David sighed, ignoring me, as he motioned off into the distance.

Glancing over my shoulder in the direction he had indicated, I instantly recognized it as being the way towards where David's bike was parked. Going home sounded like a good idea; even though I felt full of life again, I really wanted to sit down and relax. I had a lot of thinking to do and the cave under the bluff seemed like a better place to do it than the site of Holly's funeral pyre. Actually, when put that way, the cave seemed like a _much_ better place to think than the beach.

Without a word, I turned on my heel and started walking away into the darkness. I was so full of energy that I had to hold reign myself in. My arms and legs were tingling with it, so much so that I felt like running ahead. I didn't even know if I was heading in the right direction but that didn't matter. I wanted to _go_ and go _fast_. Hell, I was so happy and lively that I felt like turning backfilps—which, for the first time in days, didn't seem like it would kill me. Regardless of how I was feeling, it didn't seem like the best idea to go running off into the night without David so I did my best to keep walking at a leisurely pace.

I wasn't sure if David was following me or not until I felt him hovering just over my right shoulder. We walked in quiet contemplation for a few seconds before I broke the silence with a thought that had popped into my head.

"You know," I said lightly even though what I planned on saying was by no means ground for friendly conversation, "it's going to be a very long time before I forgive you for what you did."

"I know," David said quietly, his voice resigned.

"And it's probably going to take a lot of begging and pleading for retribution on your part," I continued matter-of-factly as we marched through the sand. I had no idea if I was even going in the right direction but since David hadn't made a move to stop me I just kept going.

"I know," he said again, voice still calm.

"And you also have a lot of explaining to do," I concluded just as a large sliver and black shape loomed out of the darkness before us. Apparently, my sense of direction was better than I thought: I had walked directly toward David's motorcycle with nothing more than a general wave of a hand in an equally nondescript direction to work from.

"Tomorrow," David said, a smile back in his voice. He was grinning quite widely by the time we stopped in front of the bike and I turned to look at him.

"Tomorrow," I repeated resolutely, smiling back despite myself.


	16. Chapter 16

******_Author's Notes_**___:_

… _GOOD GOD, SHE'S ALIVE!_

_Yes, It's true! I'm back from the dead!_

_A debilitating case of writer's block and work has kept me from sitting down to finish the next series of chapter in Felicia's story and I'm terribly sorry about that. I re-wrote the beginning of this chapter six times (no word of a lie) before finally settling on something that lent itself to where I wanted the story to go. That being said, here's the next chapter! Unfortunately, this is going to be another 'split chapter' (sorry). The next half will follow somewhat shortly (I don't want to make another promise that I might not be ale to end up keeping) but, don't worry, there **will** be another one soon._

_Also, thank you for all of the new reviews! They're always great to read and make writing all that much more enjoyable. It's great to know that so many people enjoy reading this little story as much as I love writing it. :)_

_So, without much further ado, enjoy!_

___Sincerely (as always),_

___Amaryllidinae_

___

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**Sixteen**

IT'S SAD ENOUGH FOR me to say, but I've always had a preconceived notion of what it might be like to turn into a vampire. I love horror movies and, because of that, I've watched my fair share of vampire flicks. If there's one thing that I guessed right—and, trust me, it isn't much to say that—it's that it involves dying. That's the _one thing_ that every vampire movie ever made has in common: you have to _die_ to become a vampire. The manner and level of gore differs greatly between interpretations but that's the one connecting factor, the one point that no one disputes. What humans have wrong—and I guess I really do have to put it that way now—is just how painful it is.

Like I said, I had expectations of what it would be like. They were hopelessly high, of course, fueled by all of the misconceptions I had seen in films. I think that's what, in part, made the process more frightening. I'm ashamed to admit it but before actually going through it I sort of… _romanticized_ the idea of becoming vampire. I thought, like most humans probably do, that it would involve a bite on the neck, a quick stab of pain—the price of immortality—and then it would all be over. I never cared for movies that made the exchange messy. It always seemed wrong to me that something as tactful and powerful as a vampire would be so careless. I guess, in that respect, I was right about something else, too: there's no mess. But there is pain and lots of it.

I think that not knowing vampires really existed also played a part in the, well, _naïve_ nature of my expectations. I mean, how can you truly imagine something if you've never seen it? It would be like me trying to tell you how beautiful a sunrise is if I had only ever read about it in books and never seen one for myself. I'd never be able to do the experience justice and would, in all likelihood, get most of the facts wrong. So, how could I have guessed how excruciatingly painful it is to change into a vampire when no one—or very few people, anyways—have done it themselves? And even though there are those select few that have, they're really in no position to tell the whole world about it.

I guess what I'm trying to say is that it wasn't my fault that I had no idea what was in store for me. But it's not like that's an excuse; it was stupid of me to think it would be quick and easy. I should have known that immortality would cost a lot more than a little pinch here, or a little pressure there. Looking back, what I went though was definitely sufficient payment for a life that never ends, is free of want and completely void of illness.

Like I said earlier, changing into a vampire does involve dying. But it's not a pleasant death; there's no quietly slipping into oblivion only to magically awake later, refreshed. That would have been very nice. But instead, as these things usually go, it wasn't like that at all. Actually, to be honest, I don't ever remember a specific _point_ where I felt like I had died. I remember feeling like I was chocking and I remember feeling my heart stop for a minute or two. I remember the awful fever, the pounding headache and the stabbing pains in my chest. I remember my skin feeling like it was being pricked by a hundred-million invisible barbs and the way my blood felt like had turned to napalm. And yet, none of those were really the 'worst' part. Changing is truly a terrible experience and I say that without any hint of exaggeration. But the worst part had nothing to do with the pain. I could have dealt with it, laughed it off even, if I hadn't been alone.

In all of my stupid little horror fantasies—and up until last night I had thousands of them—I always pictured myself being _with _someone when the change happened—someone who could explain what was going on and make it alright. Now, I remember a lot of what happened the night that I turned into a vampire but, most clearly, I remember being alone, frightened and wanting David. Had I been able to get enough air into my lungs to call for him I would have but, somehow, I knew he wouldn't come. And _that_ was the worst part: knowing that the person I had so unwillingly and stupidly handed my heart over to was probably somewhere close by and wasn't going to come save me. That knowledge hurt more than anything and I had no one but myself to blame for making things that way.

So I think it goes without saying now, but I didn't exactly have the _best_ night after David and I got back to the cavern. Luckily enough, I passed out at some point. I'm not sure when I did (like it really matters…) but, thankfully, I did. I slept—pfft, yeah right: more like 'lay motionless in a death-like coma'—until immediately after sunset. Like clockwork, the boys were already up but, for the first time since I had met them, it didn't seem like they had been waiting for me for long. The din that perpetually followed my friends wasn't at it's usual uproarious level yet but it was getting increasingly louder as the seconds ticked by. I was laying in bed, stupidly trying to fall back asleep even though I knew I wouldn't be able to.

Great. There goes my chance of taking a moment to get organized. Well, here's to hoping that I don't look too much like the Swamp Thing's little sister…

Moving to the edge of the mattress, I peered out from behind the drapery to see what was going on. To my surprise, the boys were milling around the cavern, apparently unaware that I was up. David was adjusting himself on the old office recliner like he was still trying to get comfortable, his face flickering between aggravated and resigned as concentrated on something I couldn't see. Marko and Dwayne were making a game out of vying for space on an unusually small settee while Paul was at his usual place on the fountain, strutting back and forth like a tall, blonde and very skinny peacock.

Well that's strange. Since when was I able to sneak up on anyone? I may be nimble on the balance beam but when it comes to doing anything that requires considerable amounts of tactfulness, I don't have the time to waste. I'm of the opinion that you're better to just do something quickly and, if it comes to it, asking for forgiveness—forgiveness is always easier to get than permission. I mean, why spend time being sneaky when you're probably just going to get caught anyway? If you're going to get in trouble for what you have to do, do it quickly and in the open. That way you won't get accused of going behind someone's back _and_ you get what needs to be done, well, _done_.

Quietly letting the curtain fall back into place, I slumped onto the mattress and took a moment to enjoy what little alone time I had unwittingly allowed myself. Inevitably, the boys would figure out that I was awake, there was no question there. How long it would take, on the other hand, was another matter all together. But far be it from _me_ to waste a gift—even if it was one from me to myself. Letting out a content sigh, I ran my hand through my hair. After the night I had—insert pained shudder here—I was expecting a rat's nest to be perched atop my head. I was shocked when I found my hair laying perfectly smooth as if I had just finished brushing it. Not believing what I was feeling, I ran my hand over my head three or four more times as if touching it more would make the mess that was hiding under the neatness appear. It didn't.

Giving up on my hair, I went to check my face. It should have been covered in a sheen of sweat but, as with my hair, it too was perfectly normal, like nothing had happened to me over the last eight or so hours. My skin was perfectly dry as I slowly traced the plains of my face, not a drop of oil or other bodily fluids in sight. Slightly unnerved, I went about dabbing off the regions that were usually the worst offenders when it came to looking shiny. Maybe my sense of touch was just… screwed up after what had happened the night before and I just couldn't feel the junk on my skin. But nothing was there when I lowered my hands to check for any signs of wetness.

I sat and stared at my hands for a moment, dumbfounded. Looking for something to distract myself with I massaged my face and eyes, taking care to spend extra time on my eyes. Unsatisfied with the strange emptiness the motion left me with, I did it again. And again. I didn't realize that I expected the feel of pressure on my skin and muscles to bring me relief until none came. In the few seconds I had been awake—and alone—I had been so busy with making sure I was presentable that I didn't notice how I was feeling. Now that I paused to really think about it, I felt antsy—shaky even—and couldn't seem to sit still. I had to constantly rub my hands together just to keep from bolting out of bed.

All of this is just too weird. I should be exhausted, not twitching like someone had shot me full of caffeine.

When shaking my head didn't help me to get rid of the jumpy feeling in my gut—if anything it just made me feel worse—I went back to running my hands though my hair. The familiar feeling of each strand on my skin was nice but it, too, didn't do anything to calm me. More wound up than I had been since I started trying to relax, I shuffled back toward the edge of the bed. Sitting around wasn't doing me any good; maybe expending myself over bantering with the boys would get rid of my nerves. After all, David was always a good outlet for my frustrations—he always seemed to know _just_ how to push my buttons to get me mad.

Just as I was about to pull the curtain away, I heard something—voices—on the other side and froze. Eavesdropping seemed like a stupid thing to do but once I started listening to the conversation that was going on without me, I couldn't make my muscles move again.

"… sure, but I don't remember taking this long," Paul grumbled, his voice taking on the 'impatient-two-year-old' tone that he always used when he was bored. I heard him jump down from the lip of the fountain, his feet making the smallest of sounds when they hit the uneven floor. He walked three or four paces before he started pacing back and forth.

"Simmer down, man," Marko laughed. I heard him lounge backwards against something, the tassels on his coat rustling together. Apparently, he had given up on fighting with Dwayne and found somewhere else to sit down. "It's not like she died or anything." There was a tense pause before I heard two people—most likely Marko and Paul—turn to look at something.

"That can't happen, right David?" Paul asked slowly, stopping his pacing for a moment.

… Make that some_one_.

I heard David scoff quietly, the familiar sound sending a flurry of feelings ranging from irritation to nervousness through me. "Of course not," he sighed, his tone unusually severe. I automatically got the feeling that he was either omitting something or just lying completely. How typically 'David'. "Don't be stupid, Paul," he continued, not missing a beat, "she's fine. Besides, if I remember correctly, you didn't exactly jump up out of bed on your first night."

"Can it, David," Paul growled, brandishing either his fist or a finger at David. The jingling of the chains on his coat and jeans the only indication that he had moved at all.

The conversation started to get quiet after that and, not wan ting to miss anything important, I leaned closer to the partition. Either embarrassed or aggravated, Paul had slunk off across the cavern, away from where I was, and Marko started fidgeting in his seat, most likely biting his nails. David, of course, was being as still as a statue and Dwayne was pensively manipulating something with his hands. I had no idea what it could have been but it made a familiar clicking noise that I couldn't quite put my finger on.

"Besides, I'm not being stupid," Paul muttered angrily, kicking something that was on the floor across the room. It hit the wall with a significant thud before falling noisily into one of the many piles of trinkets that were dotted around the cavern.

I then heard Marko toss something at Paul, the projectile whistling through the air like a little missile. "If this is you being smart, I'd hate to see you being stupid."

"Shut up, dick wad!"

"Why don't you come over here and make me?"

"Why don't you run away like the little pussy you are?"

"Pfft, you wish," Marko scoffed, his jacket rustling again as he sat up.

"You're asking for it," Paul hissed.

"I'm not fucking scared of you, pansy-ass."

There was growling, a shuffling of feet—most likely Paul taking a running start at Marko and Marko, inversely, trying to make a swift get away—and a muddle of other intelligible sounds before something large—Paul—tackled something smaller—Marko. The incredible amount of immaturity the boys possesed—well, more specifically the incredible amount of immaturity that _Marko and Paul _possessed—had started off as annoying when I first met them but, after being around them for so long, it was starting to get funny, endearing even. I rolled my eyes anyways, scoffing lightly to keep from smiling.

"She's listening, you know," Dwayne drawled quietly almost immediately after the tiny sound escaped my mouth. He was sitting the farthest away from me and still playing with whatever was in his hands.

How in the Sam Hill did Dwayne hear me over all that noise!

Every sound but the gentle clicking of whatever Dwayne was toying with stopped. My breath froze in my chest and panic flooded through my system. I'd been found out.

The way I saw it, I had a choice of two options: one, act like a child and stay behind the curtain, pretending like nothing had happened; or two, walk out into the open, extremely embarrassed, and act like nothing had happened. Option one would probably end with me getting tackled or worse dragged out from my not-so-secret hiding spot whereas option two required me to endure a significant amount of teasing and pointed criticisms. Neither were particularly appealing but option two seemed a little more dignified, however infinitesimally so.

Swallowing a rather large and very bitter serving of my pride, I quickly pulled the curtain away without hesitation. The boys were scattered around the cavern—David continued to lounge on the office recliner, Dwayne was perched on the settee, Marko and Paul were paused on the stairs, mid punch—and staring at me as I emerged. I expected my face to turn beet red as I met each of their eyes—especially David's which were silently laughing at me—but nothing really happened. Even though I was so embarrassed I felt like I could die, my cheeks barely managed to warm, perhaps flushing to the faintest of pinks and nothing worse.

… Well that's weird. I feel embarrassed enough to die and yet my face doesn't feel hot. I should be glowing like a stove-top burner not looking like I'm just walked in on Joan and Roland discussing the grocery list!

Panic flared in my chest, evaporating the chagrin that had caused me to react in the first place. I couldn't stop thinking about how _abnormal_ my body's reaction—or lack there of—was. Normalpeople blush when they're embarrassed—myself especially, and I blame my father entirely for that—so why wasn't I? I was awake, breathing, thinking, talking and, by virtue of my quick personal inventory, alive. I felt warm (sort of, apart from the obvious lack of blood rushing to my face) and full of energy (most of the nervous variety) so _why wasn't I blushing?_

I tried to remember back to what had happened last night for an explanation, fighting the dizziness that threatened to overtake me when the memories surfaced. I remembered the pain, writhing around on the mattress as my body seemed to consume itself, and I remembered being afraid. I remembered wishing that I had never been born (more than once) and biting down on anything I could get my hands on to keep from screaming aloud. And yet, after all that, there was something else—something important—that I couldn't easily recall. My head would spin viciously whenever I concentrated on remembering what my brain was trying to keep from me. Frustrated and a little unsteady, I rubbed my hand on the back of my neck to try and soothe myself. As I let my hand fall back to my side, I let my palm rest against my neck for a split second and had to hold back a gasp as my fingers grazed my jugular. The familiar thudding of my pulse running beneath my fingertips was nowhere to be found.

Well that explained a lot. Dead people—more specifically _un_dead people—don't have heart beats and, therefore, can't blush.

"Hello? Flic? You home?"

"Huh?" I asked quickly, the sound of Marko's voice breaking the worried string of thoughts—which centered mostly around the fact that I had _died_ at some point within the last twenty-four hours and couldn't really remember how it had happened—that had exploded in my head. The interruption was welcome; I instantly felt better because I had something else to focus on: not making myself look like an idiot.

Marko smiled at me from behind his hand, snickering lightly around his fingers as he chewed away at his nails. "Dwayne's talking at you," he joked, emphasizing, again, my apparent lack of attention.

I had managed to kick off my shoes before collapsing into bed the night previous so, moving as gracefully as I could, I sat on the edge of the mattress. Using them as a distraction, I reached down and gingerly picked up both of my sneakers, slipping them on like they were made of gauze. I focused intently on how the canvas felt under my hands, the way the laces hung on the invisible ridges in my skin—anything to keep my body and mind from flying into all-out panic mode. The last thing I needed was to have another meltdown in front of the guys.

"How long were you going to sit there and listen?" Dwayne growled, the irritation behind his voice hinting at how many times he had asked me the same question. Shifting with agitation when I didn't immediately answer him, he cast aside the solved Rubik's Cube in his hand to try and make me focus. I caught a glimpse of the large plastic cube bouncing across the floor as I went about tying my laces, pausing to fix the hem of my jeans once I was done.

… Yeah, okay, I was stalling. So what? Dwayne was being especially testy—for what reason I really had no clue; it wasn't like the guys were being quiet—and I didn't need to rattle off at the mouth, making his already sour attitude worse. "As long as it took you all to leave," I muttered, actually managing to sound slightly indifferent. "Just relax, okay? I was only listening for a second or two." I glanced up a Dwayne as I said this, trying to disguise my lie with a small shrug. I don't think he bought it but I didn't really care. He was overreacting anyway, as usual.

Standing up, I walked casually to the center of the room and sat on the edge of the fountain, avoiding meeting any one of the four pairs of eyes that followed me. Paul had joined Marko on the stairs after tackling him so there was plenty of room for me to sit without getting run over. Not that I was more comfortable there than on the edge of the bed or anything, but it beat acting like a sitting duck. Everyone continued to watch me, waiting as if I was going to realize I had a third eye at any second. I, on the other hand, sat quietly, anticipating the continuation of ribbing Dwayne was giving me. It never did. Unsettled, I looked to David for an explanation but that didn't help either: he continued to sit on his old power chair like a king, silently laughing at me.

… Jerk.

"How do you feel?" he asked nonchalantly, doing an expectedly terrible job of making his face appear even remotely serious. Even the most unobservant person on the face of the planet would have been able to see that he was having difficulty keeping himself from exploding with glee. I didn't like it. At _all_. Leave it to David to be so inconsiderate after everything that had happened the night before. You would think that, of all people, he would try to be at least slightly compassionate. After all, he did leave me alone to face one of the most terrifying nights of my life after practically _forcing_ me to commit murder.

I know, I know; my expectations are always way too high in every respect. Shut up.

Sinking to his level of childishness was the last thing I needed to do. It was very hard to keep myself afloat and not explode in a hissy fit, but I managed—just as my tongue started to poke out from between my lips. Pulling it sharply back into my mouth, I glared at him. "Better than you look," I said frostily. Satisfaction exploded in my chest when a little crease appeared between David's eyebrows—he was upset.

"What's that supposed to mean?" David asked, his voice fluctuating from annoyed to coy by the end of his sentence. The frown that had started to appear on his brow disappeared, replaced by a pleased smirk. I didn't like the way the boys snickered in the background.

Suspicious of what I possibly could have said without meaning it, I analyzed my words and had to fight back the horrified expression that threatened to overtake my face. The way David—and apparently everyone else—saw it, either I was admitting that I thought David was handsome or I was teasing him. I mean, there was no denying that he was good looking—well, _exceptionally_ good looking was more like it—but that didn't mean the whole world needed to know my opinion, the boys most especially so. I had _intended_ it to be something less than nice but it didn't look like that was the way it came out.

Well _that's_ got to change.

"Not what you're hoping it does," I sang, keeping the sneer in my voice to a minimum. I gloated internally when David's tiny glower returned, even though a hint of his earlier smugness still glowed in his eyes. It only spoiled my victory slightly but, even so, I didn't get to enjoy the feeling for long.

I had been expecting the boys—Paul especially—to follow up with some sort of joke, something to keep the conversation going but nothing happened. Instead, an awkward silence fell over the cavern. I swear that, if it hadn't been for the _whooshing_ of the wind or the tumult of the ocean outside, I could have heard a pin drop everyone went so quiet. What made it worse was that each one of my friends were sitting there, staring at me with that same expectant vibe radiating off of them as before. It was extremely unbearable.

"What?" I barked, glaring at Marko in particular when I caught him smiling at me from behind his hand like someone was tickling the bottom of his feet. He tried desperately to look serious as I stared at him but gave up quickly. I ignored the others as they silently snickered; I had already given them enough ammunition to annoy me for the rest of the night.

"I'm just waiting for you to flip out," he said, his voice full of the grin he was wearing.

I don't know what possessed me to do it, but I flicked my eyes to David before I snapped a retort at Marko. David flashed me his signature half-smile-half-smirk, his eyes dancing merrily in the dim light with something I couldn't put my finger. I couldn't tell if he was silently mocking me or just happy to see me but, knowing David, it was most likely the former rather than the latter. My teeth clenched together with an audible click as I threw my gaze back at Marko, inciting yet another healthy round of muted snickers in the background.

Good grief, I haven't been conscious fifteen minutes and I'm already the acting court jester.

Unfortunately, Marko was right: I did sort of feel like having a little melt down. The anxious, jumpy feeling that had assaulted me when I woke up was still there, making it impossible for me to sit still. However, no one but I needed to know _that_ little tidbit; the boys would chew into me like lions on a dead gazelle for the rest of the night if I told them the truth.

"I have no idea what you're talking about," I lied, rolling my eyes to try and make my horrid attempt at a fib come off as believable. I frowned at David when he laughed, watching me with a close eye.

"You sure about that?" he grinned, pointing at me. Stupidly, I looked to where he had indicated and to fight back a groan.

At some point I had unconsciously started tapping rhythmically on the edge of the fountain to keep my twitchy hands busy. David had, of course, noticed and done me the favour of pointing it out. Gritting my teeth together for being caught in yet another lie, crossed my arms forcefully across my chest, knotting my hands into the fabric of my shirt to make sure they didn't start wandering of their own volition again.

"Positive," I growled, glaring at him when he burst out laughing. The others followed suit, though the happy sounds died off quickly. The heavy sense of anticipation swept in to chase away the last echos of the boy's laughter, making me more uneasy than ever before.

Nervous, I stole a quick glance around the cavern, measuring the looks I was getting. Paul was brimming with excitement, bouncing up and down next to Marko on the stairs; Dwayne was frowning at me, though the action was spoiled by the shit-eating grin that kept sneaking onto his lips; and David was, of course, watching me intently, smiling away like he was the happiest man on the face of the earth.

"You guys are creeping me out," I muttered, turning my eyes down to my knees to count the fibres of my jeans. The jubilant look on David's face sparked another intense flame of embarrassment in my chest; I needed a distraction to keep myself from reacting to the inappropriate way my body responded to my emotions. This whole 'no blushing' thing was probably going to be great once I got used to it—no one will be able to tell when I'm embarrassed ever again—but, right now, it was just _wrong_.

"Why's that? _We_ haven't done anything," Dwayne said pointedly, obviously still miffed about my earlier eavesdropping.

I shook my head, equally annoyed. "Neither have I and yet you guys keep staring at me like I have horns and a tail."

"Since when is snooping 'okay'?" he snapped.

Sheesh, who knew a guy could be such a drama queen?

"Since I said so. And, besides, I was only listening for a second or two—like I told you earlier. Don't think so highly of yourself, Dwayne," I shrugged. "You never say anything that's really worth listening to, anyway."

"That's not true!" he snapped. I heard him straighten up in his seat, leaning forward to better yell at me.

"Says you," I sniffed, his voice causing no interruption to my counting. "You obviously don't listen to yourself talk."

"Bitch," Dwayne hissed under his breath. Either he was unable to come up with a better response or he just didn't feel like arguing with me anymore. Honestly, I didn't really want to prattle on with him, either, so it was nice that he ended the conversation.

I continued to count my way across my right knee, the thoughtless task doing it's job to keep me calm. The numbers left little room in my head for any other thoughts.

"Ugh," Paul groaned a few moments later, breaking the lull in the conversation, "this is like pulling teeth!" By the sound of it, he flopped dramatically back onto the stairs, but I didn't lift my eyes to check. "She's acting all… _normal_, like nothing's changed."

Looking up without thinking, I shook my head at Paul. "That's because I feel normal," I fibbed again, frustration working to my advantage and making my words sound like the truth. I hardly felt normal but that also didn't need to become public knowledge. "Now you know what it's like to live around you all the time," I snapped, sticking my tongue out at him when he gave me the one-finger salute.

The others laughed at Paul's expense, but the momentarily shift in attention away from me was short lived. Just as Marko was going to dig into Paul with a joke, David cleared his throat loudly, drawing everyone's focus—mine included—to him. He flashed me a smug grin when our eyes met. I frowned back which, naturally, only made him smirk more.

"So, since you're feeling so normal, you up for a little fun?" he asked, his eyes flashing mischievously.

"What do you have in mind?" I asked, trying my best to keep my voice even and controlled. David's simple question made my stomach shaky anticipation I had been suppressing return, manifesting in a strange quivering sensation in my stomach. It was like I was waiting for something that I had been deprived of for years and David's simple suggestion was the key to solving my unnamed _need_. Without thinking, I went from casually sitting on the edge of the fountain to holding myself there—my fingers wrapped, painfully tight, around the lip of the tiles to keep from bolting outside.

David—of course; stupid David—seemed to notice _all_ of these minute changes in me, focusing intently on my hands as if I had shouted to him all of my internal conflicts. "Why?" he asked, the quiet smugness in his voice irritating to no end. "You excited, Felicia?"

"No," I said stiffly, the lie awkward because my body was telling me the exact opposite. I _was_ excited: the apprehension that had sparked in my stomach only seconds ago had built to a point where it hurt. I _had_ to get up and go and yet I had no idea where David wanted to run off to yet. "I'm just wondering how much trouble you're going to get me into tonight," I clarified when David gave me a skeptical smile. We stared at each other for a moment before he decided to speak again.

"Out," David said simply, rising from his dilapidated throne. "Let's go."

Dwayne, Paul and Marko didn't need to be told twice. All three of them shot out of the cave, literally, like the wind, blowing my hair about my face as if I had been caught in a tornado. Confused, I looked to David for an explanation for the severe weather system that had just gusted through the cave. My expression must have been priceless because, when our eyes met, David could hardly contain himself. He spluttered once or twice, trying to keep himself composed, before he burst out laughing, the sound reverberating loudly around the cavern.

"Why do you look so shocked?" David finally managed after a few solid seconds of snickering. He was so overcome by my apparent faux pasthat he had to steady himself against the cavern wall to, evidently, keep himself from falling over.

"Oh, I don't know," I growled, though the effect was ruined because my voice was too high. "For starters: what _was_ that?"

David smiled at me, his laughing fit ending almost as quickly as it had come on. To his merit (I suppose…) he tried to be serious, but he ruined the effort by speaking; his voice was coloured heavily by the smile he was trying (and failing) to hide. "I've told you—what? Three times now?—we can fly, Felicia."

I frowned at him, stalling by fixing my windswept hair so I could chew over what David said. He _had_ mentioned something once or twice—or maybe three times—about flying. Of course I didn't believe him—and I still didn't want to—but, now that I was taking a second to think about it, I did remember (with a tremendous shudder, I might add) the first night David had tried to get me to drink blood. I had been standing on top of a large sand dune with the boys, watching those poor campers dance around their fire on the beach below. After a short conversation—which, I think, had something to do with being unimpressed about the prospect of crashing a party—David and the boys had vanished from before my eyes, leaving me alone in the darkness. It took a bit of hard thinking—my head instinctively shied away from the memories—but I eventually recalled almost being toppled over by a gust of wind very similar to the one that had just blown through the cavern. But, even if that was so, what did it have to do with flying?

"And you think I actually believe you?" I snapped, angry that he still might be trying to trick me after all of this time. Although I truly _wanted_ to trust David, that didn't mean I was going to go jumping off a bridge—er, scratch that; I've already done that: let's say 'off a cliff' instead—because he said it was alright.

"Was I lying about vampires and how, oh, I don't know… they're _real_?" he barked back, his good mood vanishing instantly. If I didn't know better, I would have said it was hurt that lit his eyes but I couldn't be sure: the scowl he was wearing was too deep. It also didn't help that I was too mad at him to care.

"Fine," I conceded, my tone clipped. "I'll give you that one."

"Then trust me," he said flatly, as if it were a no-brainer. I probably would have, had his track record not been so abysmal and I not been so pointlessly upset. To be honest I couldn't remember what had set me off initially, but it didn't really matter much at this point. I was acting like a toddler, unable to keep my emotions in check; all I cared about was getting David to admit that he was wrong—that he had _wronged me_.

"Thanks. The offer's really tempting, but I think I'll have to pass," I sneered.

"You're not exactly a saint yourself ," David huffed, stuffing his hands into the pockets of his coat like he always did when he was upset. His glower softened a little around the edges, making his eyes look faintly sad again. The rant I was about to go off on faltered on the edge of my tongue before it was completely washed away by an overwhelming tide of regret.

"This isn't about me!" I hissed, trying to save what little face I had left. I hated the way that David could make my heart rip itself to pieces whenever he showed the faintest hint of being sad or hurt. Turning my ire inward, I glared down at David's shoes to keep from looking into his eyes—his stupid, beautiful, hurt, eyes.

Lucky for me, I did need to look up to see the tiny smile that snuck onto David's lips. I could hear it plenty well. "Then why are you so flustered?"

"Because I can be," I grumbled, fighting the strange sensation of feeling embarrassed but having no colour come to my cheeks to betray me.

"Two seconds ago you were ready to rip an apology from my throat and now you're so ashamed you can't even look at me," he chuckled, some twisted form of pride running strong under his words.

Anger and chagrin warred in my chest, manifesting in a sad little pout. "Who said I was ashamed?" I muttered, making the mistake of looking up again. David was smiling smugly to himself, looking at me as if I was some sort of prize he had just won for himself. I was enraged in an instant; he had used the rampant, unruly feeling I had for him to make me feel sorry for him and back down.

"Feeling moody again today?" he sang, seemingly delighted by my uncontrollable mood swings. "I'll have to tell Paul to watch himself."

To say I was seeing red was an understatement of the most grievous kind. "Why you—"

"—I don't have to watch anything!" I heard Paul scream from outside, his voice strong enough over the surf to interrupt the string of insults I was going to fling at David. "I'm not scared of her. And hurry up, would ya'?"

"We'd better go," David said cheekily, motioning for me to go outside before him.

The little suggestion was enough to wash my anger away, the hole that was left behind swiftly filling with the aching sense of expectation and excitement I had been suffering before David had sidetracked me. "Oh, no, I'm not falling for that again. _You_ can go first," I laughed, though the sound was slightly strangled. It was getting increasingly hard to sit in one place: the unexplained compulsion to get up and go was making my arms and legs trembled as I continued to resist giving in. Clamping down harder still on the edge of the fountain to keep myself in place, I tried to act composed. It didn't really work.

"It's not like I tricked you into that," David laughed, winking at me. It was impossible not to roll my eyes back at him. "You left first all on your own," he continued, explaining with so much sarcasm I almost chocked on it.

Apparently, either 'gullible' or 'moron' is tattooed on my forehead. "You have a horrible memory," I frowned. "You were being an insufferable jerk and wouldn't move; I had to go first or we would have stayed here all night." Truthfully, if David hadn't been following me up the stairs the other night I would have fallen and killed myself.

David's eyes glittered mischievously as the flames in the oil drum next to him flickered violently in a particularly harsh breeze. "I wouldn't have minded that."

The sad thing was that I probably wouldn't have minded either. "Whatever," I mumbled, unable to come up with a sufficiently harsh come-back. I tried to ignore how no heat came to my face when David grinned at me like he knew what I was really thinking.

"What are you two _doing_ down here?" Paul suddenly growled, his voice much closer now. Not two seconds later, his wild hair appearing before his face—which was set in an impatient frown—poked through the cave mouth. He glared at David before focusing on me. "Get up, for fuck's sake, Flic!"

"Yeah, okay, Paul," I said quickly, matching his glare with one of my own. "Go away."

"Make her get up," Paul hissed at David, ignoring me when I didn't respond the way he wanted. "I'm itching to ki—"

"—Get out of here," Daivd said harshly, cutting Paul off as if he didn't want me to hear something. I saw his eyes flick towards me, worry set deep behind the playful façade. "We'll be up in a second, like I told you," he said easily, giving the lankier boy a shove.

"Yeah, whatever," Paul grumbled, disappearing without looking at me again. A harsh gust of wind blew through the mouth of the cave, whipping my hair around my face.

"Come on," David said, motioning towards the exit with a nod of his head. "I know you don't want to go, but you kinda have to." All traces of humor were gone from his voice now making it possible to hear the pleading in his words.

"That's cheap talk coming from you," I hissed, debating whether I should get up or not. David seemed to be acting genuine but, then again, he was a very good at just that—acting.

"I'll pick you up again," he threatened flatly, taking a step towards me to prove that he was being serious. I didn't need any more incentive to get going.

Jumping up from my seat like someone had stuck me in the backside with a pin, I stalked across the room towards David. He was smiling pleasantly to himself as I neared, obviously expecting me to exit the cave before him. The funny thing was, he had no idea how wrong he was. Just as he turned to motion for me go first, I reached up and spun him away from me before planting my hands firmly on his shoulder blades and pushing him towards the sitars.

"What are you doing, Felicia?" David snapped as he tried to plant his feet against the ground. It didn't really do him any good because, when he did, I would just shove harder against his back. He put up a really good fight but, eventually, I made him stumble up the short flight of stairs and proceeded to force him out of the cave. I was determined to keep him in front of me at all costs and it probably helped that I was so insanely full of energy. Had I tried this stunt just last night, I probably would have collapsed from the effort.

Unfortunately, even though I was giving it my all, we stopped dead that the bottom of the stairs when David planted his hands against the fragile railing that lead up to the bluff. "I'm making sure you go up the stairs first," I grunted, straining to keep going even though I knew David wasn't going to budge and inch now that he had something solid to brace himself against. I was no match against his arms.

"Stop it," he growled, flipping around underneath my hands like I wasn't holding onto him at all. Before I knew it he had both of my hands in his, restraining me.

"Then go up the stairs," I hissed loudly, trying desperately to fight off David's hands so I could keep shoving him up the rickety old stairs. Even with all of the energy I had—and, trust me, I felt like I could run to Alaska and back several times without being tired—it was impossible to shake him off. David was just too strong. "I told you," I said, frustrated that I was losing yet another fight against David, "I'm not going first."

"And _I_ told _you_," he said flatly, holding on to me as I struggled like I wasn't moving at all, "we're not taking the stairs."

Honestly, how stupid do you think I am?

"Riiight," I said, drawing out the word as if I had just had the world largest epiphany, "you want me to _fly_ up the stairs. How stupid of me. What was I thinking? Walking: it's so overrated. So _totally_ ten years ago."

David frowned at me when I finished, obviously disappointed because of my blatant sarcasm. "Is it really that hard to believe?" he asked, his voice cold to match his frown.

"Um, yeah," I laughed, suddenly embarrassed that David was so close to me. I had been so focused on making sure he went up the sitars before me that I didn't realize how near I was keeping to him. Practically holding hands didn't help much, either. "Otherwise," I continued, now trying to take my hands from his just to get away, "I wouldn't be so opposed to believing you. I've heard from several very reliable sources that people can't fly, so forgive me for not flinging myself off a cliff."

"'Reliable sources'?" David repeated, his voice melting back into the easy, playful side of our strange relationship. I felt his grip of his hands loosen slightly around my wrists. "Who are they? Maybe I've met them."

"Look, I may not know how old you are, but there's no way you were friends with Newton, Boyle or Pascal," I joked, unable to keep myself from giving in to David's relaxed mood.

"Well that's what you think," he said, smiling mischievously. "Maybe I'm, like, seven-hundred years old."

"And maybe you're, like, full of shit," I scoffed, easily pulling my hands away to push him on the chest. David laughed, his eyes managing to sparkle even in the shadow that cloaked the stairs to the bluff top.

"That's a lot coming from you," David replied, still sounding happy. "But, c'mon, let's go; Paul's going to be coming back to complain any second."

"YOU'RE DAMN RIGHT I AM!" I heard Paul scream from somewhere over head, his voice clear over the pounding of the sea.

The two of us laughed, the deep rough sound of David's laughter mixing with the softer sound of mine perfectly. "Alright, after you," I sighed, motioning for him to go up the stairs.

"I told you," David smiled, doing an admirable job of keeping levelheaded, "we're not taking the stairs."

"Not this again," I groaned.

I could practically feel David roll his eyes. "Give me a chance."

I've already given you about forty chances too many. "I think I'll walk."

David stared at me, seemingly debating whether he should get mad or just leave. A second or two later, he grinned impishly. "It's really not that hard, if that's what you're freaking out about," he said pleasantly—_too_ pleasantly. I was instantly suspicious.

I closed m my eyes for a split second to try and keep my temper from spontaneously boiling over. When a strong gust of wind blew across my face I opened them again and was surprised to find David's abs at my eye level instead of his shoulders.


	17. Chapter 17

_**Author's Notes:**_

_This is not a drill: this is an actual update._

_Please remain calm and in your seat. This FanFiction will begin momentarily._

_... And in other news: I'm tremendously sorry for the wait. School has consumed most of my life with a vengeance this year making it near impossible for me to complete any writing, let alone other less important things like eating, sleeping and venturing into the outside world. I've been working on this chapter in bits and pieces whenever I've had a moment of spare time (hence why it took so long to complete) and have finally finished it. Chapter seventeen has turned into something of a monstrosity, but I think it's well-worth the 10,000 or so words that make it up. :)_

_That being said, I'm going to try and keep this short and sweet._

_A continued and many thanks to all of my faithful readers: you make writing all the more enjoyable._

_Enjoy._

_Most sincerely,_

_Amaryllidinae._

* * *

**Seventeen**

"FELICIA, MY FACE IS up here," David said cheekily, instantly drawing my attention upward. "Hi," he grinned when our eyes met, looking so pleased with himself that he might explode. There was no doubt in my mind that he was trying his best not to scream 'I told you so' in my face.

"How are you doing that?" I asked, unable to keep wonder from slipping into my voice. David was floating a good foot or so off of the ground, lounging easily in the air as if he weren't doing something extraordinary.

"I told you, it's easy," he laughed, lowering himself back to the earth without a sound. "Just _think _about it. It's like… moving your fingers, or breathing. Just do it."

"You sound like a Nike commercial," I laughed.

"What?" David said, confused.

"What do you mean, 'what'? 'Nike: Just do it'," I said as an explanation. When David didn't start laughing, I got a little worried. Nike sneakers were around in the eighties, weren't they? It was like… 1985 or whatever, right? So, yeah they had to be out. I mean, remember seeing terrible ads for them on the Christmas specials my dad had taped from right after I was born in '89. So, if that was true, how could David not know about their tell-tale slogan? It came out in the eighties too… didn't it? Or was it the early nineties? No, I'm sure it was in the eighties. Had to be the eighties. I think.

… Shit.

"Do you walk around with your eyes closed or something?" I laughed, trying to change the focus of the conversation back to David. I hoped to God that he didn't notice the tremendous goof-up I had made. Potentially. Maybe he was actually clueless for once…

"No," he said slowly, his eyes narrowing in a way that made me nervous. He was on to me, there was no question about it. "I don't think I've heard that before."

Too keen, as always. "Oh, well," I stalled, trying to think up a good enough lie to shake his well-placed suspicions, "maybe that ad just hasn't gotten to the States yet. They do that," I shrugged. "I heard it… abroad." Yeah. 'Abroad'.

"Huh," David said, disbelief heavy even in his monosyllabic response.

"Yeah," I said, feeling fidgety. I needed something better to distract him with than my pitiful attempts at equivocation. "So, bat-boy," I teased loudly just as David opened his mouth to batter me with either accusations or questions, "flying is really that easy? You sure you're not hiding wings and pointy ears somewhere?"

"Definitely not," he said wryly, still cautious.

"Sure," I scoffed, looking down at my feet and, more importantly, the ground. I couldn't picture there being an empty space between the soles of my shoes and the dirt. "Okay, so, um… This has to be more difficult than you're making it look."

"Really, it's not," David chuckled, flipping the light switch on his emotions again. "I know you're scared and all—"

"—I'm not scared," I frowned. "I just don't really know what I'm doing."

"I told you, it's easy. Just trust me," he pleaded even though his voice was full of a smile.

I debated that for a second. I had _seen_ David float—or fly, or whatever you want to say—and there were no pulleys or ropes in sight. He had been honest (for once) so maybe I could trust him. I looked into David's eyes to try and gauge if he was really being honest. Nervous anticipation made his irises sparkle—even in the dark—and a tiny crease appear between his eyebrows. It was obvious that he was worried I would say no—which would have been the smart thing to say. But the way his eyes looked—so honestly full of hope—made my stomach fill with butterflies that would have sent my heart beating frantically (if that were possible). My resolve wavered as if it were set on a fault line, threatening to completely crumble at any moment.

No. Trusting David was a bad idea. I had proved that to myself definitively on more than one occasion so there was no reason to be having second thoughts now. I had already forfeited my heart to him and _that _had proved to be a mistake that had hurt me in more ways that one. There was absolutely no sense in making another fault of the same magnitude… so why was I even considering it?

Okay, yeah I know that's a stupid question. I knew why I wanted, somewhere inside of myself, to disregard all of the things David had done and to try again. I loved him. It was that simple. People who love each other—or, in my case: 'a person who loves someone else who doesn't really seem to care either way'—believe (or _want _to believe) in one another without hesitation or prejudice, no matter what's happened between them. That's why I was considering it.

I bit my lip, struggling to decide what I wanted to say. There were a billion solid, substantiated reasons to say: 'No, I'd rather not let you mercilessly trample my feelings to an unidentifiable pulp. I've already learned my lesson—more than once'. I mean, that was the right thing—the _smart_ thing—to say, wasn't it? And yet… it wasn't. There was still that singular, niggling, _stupid_ reason for me to say: 'Sure, why the hell not? David, here's my heart. Take it and, please, destroy it in whatever agonizing way you see fit—no, no. Really. It's my pleasure; have it. I don't need it anyway'.

In the end, all it took was the tiniest of smiles from David and the foundations of my carefully constructed doubts to crumble away, the fault line swallowing them in a tremendous earthquake. My unrequited love for David swooped in to bridge the void left behind, letting my heart talk without the intervention of my head. "Fine," I said sharply, ignoring the mixed sense of anxiousness and excitement that gnawed at the pit of my stomach like a rabid squirrel, "I trust you. For now."

… Okay, so it's now official: I am the most moronic person in the entire universe.

"Took you long enough," David sighed, relieved, his eyes showing the true extent of his happiness. His face was composed in an easy smirk that never wavered as he spoke even though his icy-blue eyes glittered like back-lit diamonds.

"This is your last chance, David," I said lightly, doing my best to keep the threat behind my words subtle yet still present. He needed to know I was being serious. "And I mean it. If you screw this up in any way, even the smallest bit, I will cheerfully—"

"—I won't, don't worry," David said quickly. I was glad he cut me off because, truthfully, I had no idea what I would do if he did find a way to hurt me again. Probably it would be something stupid and childish but I would cross that bridge when I got there.

"Okay, then," I sighed, glancing nervously up towards the top of the bluff. "Help me."

"Try first," David purred, satisfaction turning his voice to velvet. "I'll help if you can't get off the ground."

I bit down hard on my lip and looked back down at my feet. Okay. So I'm just supposed to fly. My feet are going to leave the ground and I'm magically going to start rising towards the top of the bluff. The laws of physics will just… no longer apply to me and I won't freak out.

Right. Because that sounds totally sane.

"This is so stupid," I hissed, still glaring at my feet which were safely planted against the rocks below. My less than positive thoughts were making it hard to focus and actually try to break the bonds of gravity. "I swear to God, if you're trying to make me look stupid—" which really isn't hard, I'll admit "—I'll kill you."

David laughed and took a step closer to me. The renewed proximity between us was distracting, making it even more difficult to concentrate on what I was supposed to be doing. "You haven't even tried yet," he said pointedly though his tone was kind.

"You _do_ realize how ridiculous this sounds and looks, right?" I asked, tossing a glare back up to the top of the bluff, bypassing David completely. I was feeling embarrassed again for some stupid reason and I didn't want him to notice, even though I couldn't blush anymore. He always seemed to know, regardless, so I didn't want to make eye contact.

"Maybe," David shrugged, mischievous energy radiating off of him, "but you said you trust me."

"Yes, and I regret it entirely," I teased back, hoping my voice sounded right. I suddenly felt uncomfortable, like I had made a bad decision.

Yeah, understatement of the year.

"You don't sound so sure," David said, his voice going frigid around the edges. He could tell I was having second thoughts. Now I _definitely_ couldn't look at him.

"Just show me again and I'll really try, I promise," I said quickly, not taking my eyes off of the bluff top. I _had_ to change the subject; I could practically feel the pointed look David was giving me and it was making me extremely uncomfortable. Mix that with the embarrassment of trying to fly (of all things) and you better believe I was just about ready to crawl under a rock and die for the second time in twenty-four hours.

I heard David let out a small sigh before the sound of gusting wind filled my ears and my hair obscured my sight. Brushing my bangs out of the way, I instinctively looked up to find David hovering about ten feet over my head.

"C'mon, Felicia; I'm waiting," he drawled, playfully expectant.

I shook my head at him, a mixture of amazement and disbelief making me smile. "That's not fair, David. I meant something a little closer to home."

"Try," he said simply, returning my smile with his own happy grin. He seemed to like this game he was making and, I had to admit, I kinda did too. This easy side of our relationship was always enjoyable—_even _when David was trying to get me to do something as ludicrous as flying.

"Okay, whatever," I sighed. Closing my eyes to concentrate, I focused on wanting to go to David. I thought repetitively about wanting to lift off of the ground, to fly to David, to be close to him. I ran that mantra over and over through my head, also managing to count the seconds as they ticked by. I had no idea what it would be like to fly so I had no idea what I was waiting for. I was _hoping_ that I would hear or feel something noticeable but nothing ever really happened. There was a gust of wind, but I attributed that to David landing next to me to either help or better poke fun at me. I held my tongue, waiting for him to say something—anything—but he never did. Worried that he was going to accuse me of not trying hard enough (even though trying, in and of itself, was enough to deem me legally insane), I continued chanting inwardly.

Five repetitions and fifteen seconds later, I still felt like nothing had changed. I was just about to open my eyes and complain to David when he finally spoke.

"See? I told you so," I heard David laugh, the sound more free than usual and a little farther away than it should have been for someone who was supposed to be standing next to me.

"See what, David?" I snapped, opening my eyes to glare in the direction of his voice. But I didn't have to look far: David was hanging in the air just a foot or so above me. "Oh my God," I whispered, awestruck. I couldn't stop myself from looking back down to the ground, the well-trodden path to the rickety staircase now nine feet away from me.

"Pretty cool, huh?" David asked, sinking down through the air to my level.

"Yeah," I breathed, suddenly lost for words. I kept looking around for something—_anything_—that was holding me off of the earth but, of course, there was nothing to find. I was really flying_._

"C'mon," David said, his voice relaxed, "let's go. Paul's gonna come down here and try to rip out my throat if we don't."

I rolled my eyes towards the bluff top just in time to see the familiar outline of Paul's hair disappear from sight. "I'd like to see that," I joked as I gave David a light shove on the shoulder. I needed something to keep my suddenly twitchy hands busy: David's words had reignited the unfamiliar sense of urgency that I had experienced earlier and, in a split second, it had taken over my body. I didn't want to start shaking again.

David drifted backwards through the air a few inches but didn't seem bothered, in fact he seemed rather pleased. "Paul wouldn't stand a chance," he whispered with a sly wink before drifting swiftly upwards towards our friends. Not two seconds later, he disappeared completely over the edge of the cliff and loud, excited shouts rang out over the pounding of the sea.

After casting a quick glance back to the ground, I zeroed in on my new target: the bluff top. Focusing intently on following after David, I started to rise through the air as if I were a human—_vampire_—shaped balloon.

Flying—when you're actually taking the time to consider what you're doing and not focusing on making sure you don't do anything moronic—is a _wonderful_ experience. The best way to describe it is like going downhill on a roller coaster. Your entire body seems weightless, almost nonexistent, and the pit of your stomach feels like it's being pulled upwards towards your throat—but in a very pleasant way. All of your insides tingle like they've been stuffed full of microscopic Pop Rocks that, as they fizz, fill you with the most overwhelming sense of euphoria and glee. And it really was as easy as breathing, just like David had said. I hardly had to think about it at all, and I was rocketing towards the edge of the rock face.

I had never felt anything like it—or anything better for that matter. Nothing I had ever done before—not riding my Harley, not sex—made me feel so blissful. Well, okay that's a little bit of a lie. Drinking blood and kissing David were close seconds to flying but I wanted to think about _both_ of those things as little as possible so they didn't really count.

A second or so later—I was moving at a considerable speed even though I was expending little to no mental effort—I landed gracefully on the sand earth of the bluff top, directly next to David. Paul, Marko and Dwayne were waiting not ten feet away, all of them sitting on their bikes and scowling like fussy two-year-olds. Apparently waiting was no one's strong suit. Well, either that, or I had actually been stalling better than I thought. In any event, David's Triumph was sitting, riderless, in the middle of the pout-fest that was going on, its silver plating glinting majestically in the moonlight.

"That was easy," I said quietly, sounding like a tacky and _way _too cheerful Staples ad.

Jeeze, what's with me and stupid product catch-phrases tonight?

"Like I said: 'told you so'," David whispered back as he gave me a playful shove. I could see him smiling in the moonlight, he eyes bright with the type of excitement that made me feel giddy just to be near him.

… Urgh, _so_ pathetic. I really have _got_ to stop thinking things like that…

"Okay, enough with your stupid stuff, Flic," Paul whined at me. "Let's go! All of the hot chicks will be gone by the time we get to town."

"That's totally priceless coming from you," I shot back with a glare. Dwayne and Marko's practiced scowls melted instantly and it wasn't long before they, along with David, were snickering at Paul.

Paul, angry at being so quickly betrayed by his best friends, glowered back at me. He folded his arms over his chest, trying to look as angry as possible (which wasn't hard). "Well if you weren't such a bimbette, we'd be in Santa Carla already."

Oh. And you think I'm just going to let you get away with that? "Really? Well, Paul, maybe if you weren't so retarded I wouldn't have to waste time making fun of you. Stop holding us back," I stage whispered.

"You are a major bitch," he hissed back at me as the others erupted in another round of guffaws.

"And you're a dickhead," I sighed sadly, giving an overly-dramatic shrug for effect. "Unfortunately, there isn't much you can do about it."

"Cut it out," David said loudly, just as Paul was winding up to make another come back. I could tell that David was trying to be serious, but the laughter in his voice gave him away. It also didn't help that he was visibly trying to hold back a grin. "Paul's right—" here, I gasped in mock horror which made Paul frown lividly "—we've got to get going."

With that, David slipped between Dwayne and Marko and hopped lithely onto his motorcycle. He motioned for me to follow so I did. The jittery anxiousness that I had been warring with since waking up had returned at full force when Paul mentioned the boardwalk not a minute ago. David's command—for lack of a better word—had only made it intensify. I was far too happy to go into town if it meant doing something that would make my nerves go away.

"I hate you," Paul whispered to me as I squeezed myself between his and Marko's bikes.

"Aw, Paul, you're _my_ best friend, too," I winked back as I slid on the Tiger behind David and locked my arms around his waist.

"Ditz," he grumbled just loud enough for me to hear, looking down to check something on his bike to hide his grin.

"Fuckwit," I said affectionately before David revved the Tiger's engine, drowning out anything Paul might have said in return.

Riding David's Triumph was still as fun now as it had been over a week ago when he first took me for a spin. The wind whipping though my hair and against my skin still sent shivers running though me, though now I was no longer afraid of getting hurt. I still felt like screaming along side Dwayne, Marko and Paul, to let the world know how happy I was and I still felt like the luckiest person alive—well, not so much anymore—to be riding around on such a classic bike. It also seemed, even now, that time passed too quickly as we traveled the route to town that was so familiar to me I was sure I could walk it with my eyes closed. I was just starting to get comfortable, nestled against the perfect curves of David's back, when we stopped in our customary parking spots at the back of the west lot. It wasn't long after that we were slowly making our way towards the hustle and bustle of the boardwalk.

"You know," I said casually as the five of us ghosted across the parking lot, slipping between the care with hardly a sound (which was surprising for me), "you promised yesterday that you and I would have a little chat."

"Mmm-hmm," David acknowledged quietly as he cast me a fleeting glance out of the corner of his eye. "And?"

"Well, correct me if I'm wrong—and don't say anything," I snapped when David opened his mouth to interrupt me, "—but you haven't exactly imparted any pearls of wisdom to me yet."

"I was waiting for you to bring it up, actually," he laughed. "I was hoping you'd forget."

"I knew you weren't going to say anything until I did," I hissed back, failing to glare at him like I had intended. David's good mood was infectious; I couldn't help but smile too.

David shrugged, the grin that was plastered on his face touching his eyes in the way that always made the bottom of my stomach tingle. "What can I say? At least I'm consistent."

"Thanks, tips," I said playfully. "I kinda figured that one out."

"Just making sure you're keeping up," he shrugged, his grin fading into a muted half-smile—one of the ones that always indicated he was mocking me. "We wouldn't want you left in the dark, would we?"

It was my turn to laugh. "No, definitely not."

"I'm glad we agree," he said cheerfully, the latent sarcasm in my voice apparently very amusing.

"Yeah, don't get used to that; it won't happen often," I said, bumping him gently with my shoulder. "So, bat-boy, are we going to talk then? Or am I going to have to beat the information out of you?"

David rolled his eyes, his perfect lips parting in another dazzling grin. "Now _that's _something I'd like to see."

Pfft, you would. "Don't tempt me," I said slyly. "You might end up on the wrong end of more than you bargained for."

"Would you two get a room already?" Paul said loudly, acting every inch of the melodramatic two-year-old he was. He stopped suddenly in the middle of the lot, turning around to glare accusingly between David and I. "I'm sick of listening to you two… _flirt_. It's killing my appetite."

"You're just jealous," Marko laughed, punching his best friend on the shoulder.

"Am not," Paul growled, pushing Marko in retaliation. "I'm thirsty as fuck."

"Douche," the shorter boy hissed, continuing the shoving match with a hip check that sent Paul stumbling back a few feet.

"Look who's talking," Paul hissed before charging back at Marko. Luckily Dwayne got in between the two of them just before Paul's fist collided with Marko's face, ending the budding brawl before it went any further.

"Cool it, you two," Dwayne said curtly, keeping the two blondes apart as they continued to scream obscenities and swing their fists at each other. "You're causing a scene."

"He started it!" Paul and Marko bellowed in unison, each pointing accusingly at the other around Dwayne.

"Shut up," David said sharply, silencing both of them with a single frigid glare. All traces of his good mood evaporated in an instant, the good vibes that had been radiating off of him to me disappearing and leaving a muted sense of terror in their wake. I was used to David's quick mood swings by now but it was still disconcerting when the… _change_ happened. It was like being dunked in a pool of ice water after sitting in a hot tub for too long; it shocked my entire system.

A fleeting but tense silence had settled over our little parking lot pow-ow, no one in our group daring to make a noise until David said it was okay. I was afraid that, if I said anything (which I hadn't as of yet—ten brownie points for me), he would turn his ire on me even though I really hadn't done anything wrong in the first place. The last thing I wanted right now was for David to be mad at me; we had been doing so well tonight. "Take them and go," David instructed Dwayne curtly, shattering the quiet, "I'll find you later if I need to."

"Whatever, man," Dwayne shrugged, unaffected by David's shifting moods as usual. "C'mon, morons," he grunted before grabbing Marko and Paul by the collars of their jackets and carting away. Paul and Marko, of course, complained the whole time. I listened to them sling insults at Dwayne until I couldn't hear any more (which took a lot longer than usual).

"Let's go," David said quietly as soon as the three boys disappeared around a corner.

I tore my eyes off of the point where Dwayne, Paul and Marko's had disappeared to look up at him. I was relieved to find him smiling ever so slightly again, all traces of his anger completely gone. It was as if nothing had happened. "Uh, sure," I breathed, the hot-cold of his moods sending me reeling again. "Where?"

"Anywhere," he laughed, motioning with an overly dramatic tilt of his head towards the lights and rides.

"So long as it's on the boardwalk, hm?" I asked dryly before continuing towards the entrance. David followed me, keeping close enough so I could feel his body next to me but just far enough away so that we actually never touched. The urge to reach out and take his hand was suddenly so strong that I had to jam my hands into my pant pockets to keep them to myself.

"You're starting to get the game," David said impishly, mimicking me—or mocking me, more likely—by stuffing his hands deep into his jacket pockets.

"Oh, no," I said lightly, bracing myself as we dove into the crowd, "I've always known what the game is. I just don't like the rules."

I watched David smile out of the corner of my eye, his eyes laughing silently like they always did when I was amusing him by being myself. "Well they're not gonna change so you better get used to them, princess."

"Says you, your royal highness," I muttered back as we swam easily through the crowds, the people parting around us as we approached. No matter what direction we weaved, there always seemed to be just enough clear space for David and I to walk without being bumped.

We walked quietly for a while, the carnival music over the loud speakers and the perpetual racket of the crowd easily filling the silence between us. Unlike on other occasions, this was a comfortable silence—or at least it started out that way. For the first few minutes, I was perfectly fine with not speaking. Even though I had only known David for a little over a week now, I wasn't concerned with constantly trying to fill every second with chatter. It was like we were old friends who had known each other forever: I was confident that if he had something to say, he would say it, and if he didn't he'd stay quiet. Instead, I quietly considered what could have possibly been going on in his head as he silently ghosted alongside me, his amazing eyes fluidly darting over the crowd in a manner that hinted at how old he was. But, of course, (as with all things it my life, it seemed—cue the melodramatics) this didn't last as long as I would have liked it to.

After we had been going on like this for a while, silently contemplating the mystery of each other, I started to feel nervous. At first, I thought it was because I was still so close to David. Being near him usually filled my stomach with butterflies, but this feeling wasn't anything like that. That feeling—that gentle tickling at the pit of my stomach—was pleasant and this wasn't _anything_ like that. No, I felt more like I had the other night when David and the others had coerced me into coming to the boardwalk—like I was searching for someone and it was vital that I find them or else the entire universe would crumble and fall apart…

Not this again.

"I wanna go sit somewhere," I said quickly, eager to get away from the tide of people that surrounded us. Where I had been doing it unconsciously before I could now feel myself actively scanning the faces around me, searching for that 'special someone'. If David and I were going to have a chat, I wanted to be able to focus on what he had to say and not be fighting to keep myself in check.

"Why?" he asked nonchalantly, still looking around like I hadn't said anything.

"I can hardly hear you," I fibbed quickly. Even though the noise on the walk was deafening I could hear David, his voice rising no louder than that of a normal conversation over the din, just fine.

"You know I hate it when you lie to me like that," he teased with a wink before taking a sharp left towards a small alley nestled between a surf shack and a tattoo studio.

I followed obediently, glaring at David's back as I fought back a wave of embarrassment. "It's just a white lie," I huffed as we slipped between the two buildings and out of the crowd. The tiny space was dark and slightly claustrophobic but it wasn't long before we emerged at the other end, walking onto a wharf that was completely devoid of other people. I instantly felt relieved, the tight and ever-present anxiousness in my chest subsiding to a more manageable level.

"Now _that's_ priceless," David laughed, stopping at the rail that separated us from the ocean. "For someone who's so opposed to lying, you seem to be good at justifying your own."

"Yeah, whatever," I said quickly under my breath, scaling the sturdy beams to sit with my legs dangling over the water. "Not being able to hear you mock me is as good a reason as any to get away from all of those people."

I decidedly ignored the jab he had made at me under the pretense that it was best if we didn't get into another argument over morals—at least right now. I really wanted to chat with him about what it meant to be a vampire; I had so many questions that needed answering and it didn't seem like a good idea to get David upset before asking him to make sense of my world.

"It gets easier, you know," he said quietly, peering out over the night time waters at something I couldn't see.

"What gets easier?" I asked playfully, expecting him to make fun of me for being such a horrid liar.

"After a while you don't feel anxious about finding prey unless you want to," he shrugged, his candid response taking me by surprise. "When you're new, your body craves blood so you feel uptight all the time. That passes. When you've been living like this for a year or so you'll be able to control it, bring out those sensations when you're hunting; they help you focus and find the people that are easiest to lure away."

… I guess I'm more of an open book that I thought.

"Oh," I said, dumbfounded that he had so easily guessed how I was feeling and, in turn, why I had really wanted to go somewhere alone.

David snickered quietly, looking up at me with one of his half-smiles that always made my insides turn to mush. "I thought you said you wanted me to explain everything?"

"I do!" I replied quickly, afraid that he was going to revoke his promise from last night. "Don't get me wrong, that's _exactly_ the kind of stuff I want to know. I just… I mean… How did you know that was what was really wrong?"

"We've all felt like that," he said, his eyes shining with mischief and laughter in the moon light. "And, let's face it, you read like a large-print newspaper, Felicia."

"Thanks," I grumbled, shoving the side of David's head. The feel of his hair under my fingers brought back a flood of memories that, had I still been alive, would have sent my heart racing.

"Don't mention it," he laughed.

"I never do," I sighed.

"So, what else do you want to know?" David asked before lithely swinging himself up on the rail to sit next to me, our hands almost touching he was so close.

"Anything and everything that will make this easier," I mumbled, suddenly humiliated that we were having this conversation. It felt like I was having the Birds and the Bees talk with Joan all over again (and what a glorious disaster _that _had been…) though this was a lot more morbid.

"Well, you have to have at least _one _question," David smiled, "or you wouldn't have made me promise to talk to you."

I could feel him looking at me as I stared down at my knees but I couldn't look up at him. But when you're right, you're right. I did have a bunch of questions I wanted to asked but, now that I thought about it, they all seemed really idiotic. I could just hear myself spouting off things like 'Do we really have to drink _human_ blood?' or 'So, are there any other perks to this besides flying?'. Yeah. Right. Pure genius, that.

… The person who came up with the saying 'There's no such thing as a stupid question' has officially been added to my ever-growing hit list.

"Well," I hedged, quickly sifting through my mental list of pathetic queries to try and find the one that sounded most intelligent, "what happened to me last night?"

I felt David bristle next to me as if he had been expecting me to ask something else. "Starting when?" he said just a little too coolly.

I hesitated, debating whether this was still a good idea or not. It really didn't seem like it any more, but I desperately wanted to know what had caused me to be in so much pain the night before. And, after all, hadn't David promised to tell me anything and everything that I wanted, stupid or not?

"After you left me alone," I muttered, peering at David out of the corner of my eye. He was wearing the tired, ancient expression that had plagued him so often over the past few nights and I instantly regretted opening my big mouth.

David was silent for a second as he peered out over the rolling surf, his eyes never moving off of the horizon. He looked like he was remembering something that hurt him tremendously and trying to find the best way to explain it to me.

"You don't have to answer that if you don't want to," I murmured, angry with myself for causing him so much distress with my silly question. I knew I should have stuck with something more innocent!

"No, it's fine," David sighed as he ran a gloved hand through his hair. The sweet-musky scent hit me in the face like a ton of bricks, making me loose focus momentarily.

I was never going to get used to that. Ever.

"What happened last night is kinda complicated," he hedged. "Do you remember when you first came to the bluff?"

"I remember most of it," I said. "You almost made me throw up twice, we drank that wine and then I passed out and almost broke my nose—or so I'm told. Why?"

David laughed but the sound was hard and devoid of emotion. "It wasn't wine," he said flatly like he was mad but not at me. "It was blood."

I thought on that for a second, choking back my initial disbelieving response. My recollection of the night in question was still a little fuzzy but I clearly remembered when David had offered me the clear, gem-encrusted bottle that contained what I thought was wine. I remembered smelling the contents and, for a second, being convinced that the alcohol smelled off—that it had smelled like _blood_. But, being desperate to make friends with David and the others, I had let them convince me otherwise and I had drank it.

Wow. I had been right all along. That's a first.

"Who's?" I asked, burying the self-loathing and fury that had gripped me away to deal with later. There was no sense in getting mad at myself or David right now.

"Mine," he said quickly, still avoiding my eyes. I had the suspicion that he was lying—David's eyes had flicked every so slightly to the left, like he was trying to avoid seeing me even in his peripheral vision—but I pushed that aside too; this was far too important a conversation for David to lie to me. He was probably just upset about the topic I had brought up. I was overrating, as usual.

"To turn," he began in quiet monotone, reciting the words robotically like he was regurgitating a lecture someone had given him years ago, "you have to fist drink the blood of another vampire. The blood spreads like a cancer though your body, infecting and devouring the human cells until there's almost none left. You end up in a kinda 'in between' state—not quite human anymore and yet not quite a vampire—which you can live in for months until you first drink human blood. When you do, it gives the vampiric parts of you the, uh, _kick _they need to completely take over the human that's still left, turning you into a vampire. The change feels different for everyone," David concluded dryly before drifting off into his own thoughts for a moment.

I took what time the pause in our conversation had given me to think over what David had said, remembering again all of the unpleasant sensations that had assaulted me not twelve hours ago. Just recalling the pounding headache, the chills and burning heat, the agony and fear that had gripped me for what seemed an eternity made me shiver. I quickly regretted even thinking to analyze the sensations, trying to pinpoint what had really been going on in my body as the pain shifted from one form to another.

Okay, everyone who thinking that this conversation is in desperate need of a topic change raise your hand! Oh, oh, oh—pick me, pick me!

"So," I said quickly, shaking my head as if to dislodge the images there, "how is it that you always seem to know exactly what I'm thinking, sometimes even before I do?"

David let out a small, clipped laugh before ripping his eyes off of the ocean and looking over at me. "You can't ask any easy questions, can you?" he smiled, his beautiful blue eyes gleaming with both sadness and admiration.

"You promised you'd tell me everything," I said simply, unable to keep myself from smiling timidly back. "I never said that I would go easy on you." Says the girl who's trying desperately to make herself sound like a life form with more than two braincells…

"You're right," David conceded, his tone playful yet tainted by the despair that had been in his gaze. It didn't take me long to figure out that he was thinking about something else besides the topic at hand—like away to get out of answering me.

"More often than you care to admit," I teased, prodding his leg gently to try and break him out of his darkening mood. When David remained eerily silent, I became suspicious. What could possible be so bad about my question? It was perfectly innocent; it wasn't like I had asked him something personal.

"C'mon," I laughed as I hit him again, this time a little harder for extra motivation, "spill: is being incredibly perceptive a vampire 'thing' or is that just me being an easy read?"

"Felicia," David said quickly, his voice going frigid around the edges like it always did when he was mad or annoyed (especially with me), "that's a lame question. Ask something else."

"What?" I asked, disbelief making me sound confused rather than agitated.

"Ask another question," David repeated, his voice hard and cold to match his deep-set frown. I had really struck a nerve.

"No," I continued, now more determined than ever to get the answer I wanted. "That's a perfectly valid question and you said that you would tell me anything."

"Fine," David growled, though that was all he said. The word hung mid-air for a moment before fading under the gentle rush of the ocean tide, leaving another heavy silence between us.

David had promised me an answer. Okay, so it wasn't really an easily given promise, but it was a promise nonetheless. This was a good thing, a step in the right direction. Not wanting him to go back on his word, I watched David carefully as I waited for him to speak. He could take whatever time he wanted to find the words he needed (but within reason of course; I wasn't about to let him sit there, quiet, for an hour—I'd kick him again if he did that).

After a second or ten of being absorbed in examining everything about his beautiful face to keep myself occupied—from the tiny crease between his scowling eyebrows to the curved frown on his lips—I noticed something else, something that I had never seen David do before in the week that I had known him. The action was subtle, so sight, in fact, that I wasn't even sure he was really moving, but David was shifting his weight. Like I said, it wasn't a dramatic movement but every two or three seconds, he would ever so slightly from left to right as if he were sitting on something uncomfortable.

Stop the press: David was fidgeting.

I was flabbergasted. I had done the impossible: _I _had made _David_ uneasy. I, Felicia Rhys, had posited a question that David was actually afraid to answer. Triumph ballooned in my chest but the euphoria was short lived. For after the giddiness worry followed swiftly, weighing down every inch my body as if I had been encased in concrete. My question—my simple little question—had made David anxious. The answer he was preparing to give me was so… _bad_ that he would rather go back on his promise than tell it to me. Perhaps, then, this was something that I really didn't want to know…

Can you say 'backpedal for all you're worth' ten times fast?

"You know what? Forget it," I said quickly just as David took in a heavy breath to speak, cutting him off. "You're right: that was a stupid question. I've thought of something else to ask."

"What?" David sighed, relief plain in his voice. "Are you finally going to start asking easy stuff?"

"Like what?" I laughed, slightly confused. What could possibly qualify as an 'easy question' when you were discussing the particulars of being a _vampire _with someone?

David smiled, his mood lightening by an infinite number of degrees. It was clear, even to unobservant me, that the change in topic had lifted a huge weight from his shoulders. I couldn't help but to continue wondering, though, what about my last (unanswered) question had made him so upset. "Oh, I duuno," he shrugged, doing a poor imitation of my voice, "what about 'Can I still eat garlic?'"

I roll my eyes, unimpressed. Honestly, my voice is not _that_ airy-fairy. "Why do I get the feeling that you're mocking me?"

"Because I am," David said simply, speaking normally again. I turned to look at him when he gently nudged me with his foot, promptly returning the gesture—though probably a little harder than I should have (even though he deserved it…)—to keep myself from letting out a wistful sigh when our eyes met. The moonlight was shining brightly in his beautiful blue irises as he looked at me, making them gleam like the palest sapphires. I struggled to keep my thoughts coherent—a mammoth task in its own right—so I wouldn't say something regrettable.

"I'm not interested in all that basic rules stuff," I smiled, David's mood infecting me with good humor again. "I've watched enough horror movies to, you know, kind of have a grasp on 'Vampire Basics 101'."

"Oh yeah?" David said slyly, an impish grin creeping onto his gorgeous lips. "Then why don't you—"

"—No, no," I interrupted sarcastically, raising a hand to silence him, "really. Allow me. No running water," I continued, ticking each of my 'rules' off on my fingers, "no sunlight; wooden stakes are _not_ our friends; holy water and crucifixes are strictly off limits; and blood is, obviously and unfortunately, a must. Garlic, on the other hand, I don't really care about because I never liked it to begin with. Oh, yeah: flying is cool—though turning into a bat isn't—and, apparently, long fingernails are also 'in' but that's one I don't really get; personally I find it kind of annoying, but oh well. Now, did I miss anything?" I concluded smugly.

David laughed loudly, the sound sending waves of pleasure through my body. I couldn't help but chuckle too; just watching him be happy was enough to make me feel that way too. God, I love making him laugh. "No, not really," he shrugged, his shoulder brushing ever so gently against mine. "Just the bits about having heightened senses and stuff, but that's not really important."

"I hate to say it," I sighed, feigning hesitation, "but 'I told you so' just seems rolls off the tongue _so_ easily…"

"Yeah, yeah, whatever," David said, rolling his eyes heavily as the wide smile that was plastered on his face settled into a cocky half-grin. "So, since the 'easy stuff' is taken care of, what else do you want to know?"

I chewed on my lip, mulling over my options as I looked out to sea. If I was going to be honest, I really wanted to know what had bugged David so much about the last question I had _tried_ to ask, but that didn't seem like a good thing to bring up again. I was too comfortable with David like this—happy and smiling and, seemingly, carefree—to ruin it now; we hardly ever had the chance to be so… open and relaxed.

Although the others—Marko, Paul and, yes, even Dwayne—were growing on me and I enjoyed their company (to a certain degree), it always seemed like their presence made David act differently around me, like he had to save face all the time. I guess the same was true for me, too—I hated appearing weak and infatuated around my friends, no matter how immature they were—but, somehow, it felt different coming from David. I couldn't quite put my finger on it, but it was like he was under pressure from them to act indifferent.

… But anyway. Insecurities aside, I did have plenty of other things I wanted to ask besides that one nagging question. Quickly sorting my list into priority-order, I turned back to David. "Where do you and the boys… _sleep_?"

David chuckled again, sending more tingling waves through my system. "That's a surprise for later.," he said coyly.

I glared at David, disappointed in his evasiveness. "That's not an answer," I said stiffly.

"You'll find out soon enough," he teased, finding my aggravation entertaining as usual. "It's just that Paul made me swear that I would let him see your reaction."

"So you'll keep promises for Paul, but not for me?" I said pointedly, upset.

"Felicia," David smiled, not taking me seriously, "you'll see later. Just think, though: if you were me, would _you_ rather Paul lose his shit over something so stupid or just make him happy?"

It wasn't hard for me to see Paul having a tantrum over something as meaningless as sleeping arrangements. I could practically hear him using his toddler-whine and stamping his feet when he found out that David had told me the 'big secret' without him. "Okay, fine, I see where you're coming from," I sighed tightly, "but, really. Can't you just tell me anyway? He'll never know the difference—I mean, come on. This is _Paul_ we're talking about, here. I'll just… pretend to be shocked or whatever."

"He's not _that_ stupid," David laughed. "Besides, you're a terrible actress and it'll be a nice surprise for you."

"I _hate_ surprises," I grumbled, glaring up at the moon.

"I noticed," David said lightly, his voice full of the smile that was plastered on his face.

"You're asking for it," I warned, flicking him a glance before I went back to examining the dimpled surface of the moon. I had never noticed how rough it looked—how you could see all of the craters in the surface. I mean, I had known that the moon wasn't smooth ever since like grade two science class, but I hadn't been able to see it so clearly before.

Huh, David hadn't been joking about the 'heightened senses' thing: my eyesight _was_ better.

"Why am I not scared?"

"I'm going to ask even harder questions just to spite you, you know," I said impishly, turning my eyes back towards David. He was smiling at me, enjoying our playful banter, but something about the tightness at the edges of his calm gaze was worrisome. It was like he was actually dreading what other things I might bring up.

"You do that," he challenged playfully, trying to wrestle the hesitation in his tone into submission.

"Okay, next question," I began, running with the first idea that popped into my head. "I think you said, once upon a time, that… _taking life_—" I suddenly couldn't bring myself to say 'killing' like I had intended "—gets easier with time," I said trying to maintain my earlier confidence even though I suddenly felt unbearably guilty on the inside. After I had finished speaking I was hyper-aware of the lighter in my pocket: I could feel its smooth contours cutting painfully into my leg like a knife made of my father's disgust and shame. Had he been alive and here, he would have disowned me for even _bring up_ such a terrible topic.

"I think I did say that," he said somberly, the gentleness in his eyes souring to a calculating stare. As much as I wanted to look away, I couldn't bring myself to do it; David's eyes were locked on mine, his gaze penetrating down into my soul like a barbed spear. "What about it?"

Now it was my turn to fidget. Self-loathing shot through me like electricity, making it impossible to sit still. At first, this question had seemed so innocent, so _perfect_ to prove my point, and now I couldn't believe I had even _thought_ of asking it in the first place. But, of course, me and my big mouth had crossed that invisible line of no return so I had to finish my thought. "How long?" I said feigning indifference, though my voice was tainted by a glaring hint of distress.

David went silent again, pensive as we continued to look into each other's eyes. As the seconds ticked by sadness seemed to overcome him, manifesting in that all-too-familiar pucker between his eyebrows. It wasn't long after that his face withered around the edges, the tortured expression—the one that I hated so much that my heart broke every time I _caused _it—appeared.

"Depends on you," David said suddenly, sharply breaking the brisk silence that had fallen between us. He looked away, back out across the sea, seemingly determined not to make eye contact with me any more. I could still see the hints of sadness around his eyes, even in the dim moonlight. My all-too-dead heart felt like it was bleeding in my chest. "You can either make this easy on yourself," he continued, "and accept what you are or fight it until you breakdown and give in anyway, just like you did the other night. In the end, though, you'll end up at the same place."

"Oh," I said, my voice belying my sudden bout of confusion. The bluntness of David's answer caught me off guard; I had honestly thought that he wasn't going to say anything at all. Having nothing else intelligent to say I focused my attention else where, gently smoothing my thumb over the heavy lump in my pocket. A tense silence fell between us again, neither David or I willing to say anything more if it could be avoided. My question period, it seemed, had effectively ended.

The seconds that the two of us sat there, perfectly still (well, almost: I was still rubbing the outline of the lighter in my pocket with my thumb) and quiet, seemed to stretch on forever. I felt ashamed and uncomfortable because of my tactlessness and yet I couldn't help but feel that David was upset with himself, too. He felt tense next to me, his silent frustration and sadness hammering into the side of me like barbed icicles. I wanted to apologise for being so stupid, for not thinking before I opened my stupid mouth, but it seemed like that would only make things worse.

So, instead, we sat, still as statues silhouetted against the interminable ocean, waiting for the other to speak. It felt like an eternity would pass before anything changed but, despite how terrible I felt with myself, I didn't mind the silence—to a degree. I couldn't help but think, beneath the guilt and self loathing, that it was nice to be next to David, alone. But, of course, like everything else in my bitter-sweet life (please excuse my use of melodramatics), this wasn't meant to last. Because I was perfectly content to sit next to David for however long I could, an interruption to my plans materialized, literally, out of thin air.

Someone, somewhere, was calling my name.

The sound started off quietly at first, a mere hum at the corners of my brain. It wasn't distracting, but it was just enough of a hint of sound to make me feel, as I thought about how extraordinary it felt to still be sitting with David, like I was putting off something extremely important. Of course, I shoved these thoughts and feelings instantly to the wayside, reclaiming what little room they had occupied for more important things (namely David). But, as the seconds ticked by, the sounds became more forceful, manifesting from a hum of unintelligible, easily dismissible noise to faint whispers. Whispers that then started to echo around in my head, growing in magnitude, until the sound of my name was reverberating against the walls of my skull, until they had a strangle-hold on my ability to focus.

_… Felicia… Felicia… Felicia…_

I couldn't help but glanced over at David, suspecting that he could also hear what I was hearing. Of course, much to my fear, he looked as if he hadn't heard anything at all: he was gazing calmly out at the sea, his brow slightly furrowed as if he was contemplating something very deeply. There was absolutely no sign that he had heard anything of the growing cacophony of noise that was overwhelming my thoughts.

_… Felicia… Felicia… Felicia…_

Looking away quickly, I turned my eyes back out to sea and hoped that David hadn't notice me looking at him. Panic flooded through me as the voice continued to rhythmically repeat inside my head. I tried to weight my options but couldn't get past the point of 'Either I'm…' before the voice would ring out again inside my head, distracting me. I wanted to say 'crazy' but the thoughts just wouldn't come; it was as if my brain had been rewired and was unable to think about anything other than the strange voice, than the sound of my own name.

_… Felicia… Felicia… Felicia…_

Desperate to hear another sound, I turned back to David. "Can you not hear that?" I blurted out, my voice rising an octave by the end of my sentence out of sheer panic.

"Hear what?" David said calmly, his voice seeming to shrug and invisible pair of shoulders. He never once looked at me even though I was staring, admittedly a little frantically, at his face.

I paused before responding, waiting for the echoing sounds in my head to continue and, somehow, prove my point. They (naturally) didn't. For the first time in what felt like hours, the inside of my head was silent. Able to think clearly again, I evaluated my most recent atrociously embarrassing outburst. I had been hearing voices inside my head, a clear marker that I had finally gone insane. Was that something I should really be sharing with another person—let alone David?

… Decidedly _not_.

"I thought I heard something," I lied quickly, my regular thought process putting no pause to the flow of our 'conversation'. "Must've just been a cat."

"Hm," David said slowly, looking at me for the first time in minutes. I managed to relax my expression before he saw anything. He scanned my face quickly, pausing on my lips, before meeting my eyes again. "You ready to go?" he asked, though the suggestion sounded more like an order than anything else.

"If you want," I shrugged, "it doesn't really matter to me." Truthfully, it did matter to me. I suddenly had the urge—or more like a compulsion—to leave the boardwalk. I had no idea _where_ I wanted to go, but there was another place, somewhere, that I wanted—_needed_—to be.

But it wasn't like I was going to come right out and tell David that.

David exhaled sharply before swinging his legs smoothly back over the railing, his feet touching the ground with hardly a sound. Without waiting, he started off without me. "Hurry up," he called over his shoulder, his voice monotone and impartial.

… Don't bother to wait up or anything. No, really, it's cool.

"I'm coming," I hissed under my breath, glaring at David's retreating back before I swung my feet back onto the worn boards of the wharf.

"Faster," David said loudly, stopping next to the rear fire exit of a nondescript store. I could see him perfectly in the shadows, watching me with ambivalence plastered on his face, not thirty feet away.

"My feet have wings, Sahib," I grumbled, jogging quickly towards him.

_… Felicia…_

My head snapped involuntarily to the right, reacting again to the sound of my name. I couldn't help but stop in my tracks, taking the time to analyze the sound that had, only a few moments ago, almost driven me crazy.

The voice was familiar, and strangely so, now that I thought about it. I had heard the sound before many times but, now that I was trying to identify it out of the blue, I couldn't put my finger on who it belonged to. The tone was plain, smooth and definitely male. It had a chastising edge to it, though, that instantly made me think the way Roland used to tell me off for ignoring him.

"Felicia?" David asked, his voice suddenly crisp with emotion again. "What's up?"

_… Felicia…_

The vaguely familiar voice sounded clearly again inside my head, the ring of my name resonating like a bell. I couldn't help but stare in the direction it had come from—though how I suddenly knew it was coming from somewhere in the west I had no idea; there was no one standing there—and search for the source. "Nothing," I said, quickly scanning the darkness for any hint of another person before looking back to David. "I keep hearing a cat or something moving."

"What?" David asked coolly, his tone flattening out like a sheet of ice. Usually, I would have wondered what he was so upset about, but I couldn't really focus on David. My thoughts kept drifting back to the sound of the voice; all I could think about was finding the person—because it had to be a person—who was calling to me. The urge to leave the boardwalk and just to start walking hit me again like a slap to the face. It took everything I had to stay put.

"Nothing," I lied, actually managing to sound convincing. "Let's go."

David, surprisingly enough, didn't argue: instead, he stared at me for what felt like an hour. I could practically feel his eyes scrutinizing every inch of my face, like he was searching for something that I was hiding from him—which wasn't really far from the truth.

"Hm," he said eventually, a cool glare flashing through his eyes before he looked away and turned his back to me again. Without another word he started walking off without me, slinking through the shadows like an alley cat.

I debated not following him for a split second. The idea was extremely tempting, but I didn't want to cause trouble—or _more_ trouble that I already had, that is. The turbulent nature of the relationship David and I shared had presented itself in full-force over the last few hours and I had definitely done my part to make the awkwardly rough patches stick out like tar on an otherwise perfectly white cloth. It also helped, in a rather twisted sense of the word, that I knew if I wanted to find the source of the mysterious voice that I needed to get away from David without the threat of him hunting me down. Running away was not the best way to go about that (I know it seems improbable, but I sometimes I _do_ learn from my mistakes).

With a quick shake of my head to clear the jumbled mess of my thoughts, I started after David, flitting through the pitch-black shadows like a ghost. I was determined to stay with David for the rest of the night without running off like I had before: I owed him that much for entertaining my stupidity.

Tomorrow night, though, was an entirely different story.


	18. Chapter 18

_**Author's Notes:**_

_Hello again, all!_

_I would like to start this chapter off with an apology: I'm terribly sorry that this update wasn't posted when I intended it (it was meant to be completed by Christmas). Because of a (lingering) case of the flu and a very busy family schedule, I couldn't meet the deadline I set out for myself. This is, of course, not an excuse, but I thought it would be a good idea to explain my recent shortcomings._

_So, again, I'm terribly sorry for the delay. I can't make any promises that it won't happen again (because, unfortunately, it most likely will), but you'll all be happy to know that Chapter 19 is already past the 'planning phase' and being worked on! (Astounding, I know!)_

_But, to keep things brief: I would like to send out yet another round of 'thank you's to everyone who continues to read this story. If it weren't for you all, I would still be writing this just for myself and it probably wouldn't have gotten this far along. As always, please feel free to leave comments: I always appreciate hearing thoughts on my work._

_With that being said, enjoy!_

Amaryllidinae.

* * *

**Eighteen**

SLEEPING AS A HUMAN is a wonderful experience. Everything about it—about sleeping—is relaxing: that moment of snuggling under warm blankets, the content sigh, the peaceful dozing off into dreams. It's the perfect way to end a long day, to bring to a close all of the events that have taken place. And although it can sometimes seem to take forever before the world fades away and your dreams take over, the waiting, in hindsight (this irritated me to no end, once upon a time), is also great. It's what makes the moment that you _do_ fall asleep all the more gratifying.

Sleeping as a vampire (ha), on the other hand, is absolutely none of those things. There's no time to doze and think, to recap the day or plan for the next. There's no relaxing into a warm bed against familiar pillows. There's no waiting, there's no struggle. The best way to describe what happens as the sun comes up (which I can only assume because it's not like _I'm _in any kind of position to be doing an experiment or anything) is like being put under anesthesia. It doesn't feel like anything's happening at first, but after a few impossibly long seconds, your breathing catches in your chest, your limbs feel like they're suddenly made of iron and it becomes utterly impossible to keep your eyes open. You fight against it, trying to hold onto consciousness for a few more seconds, but you can't. Every fibre in your body is screaming for you to give in, to sleep, so you do. Your eyes close slowly with one last shuttering sigh and then… _nothing_.

Vampires do not dream. The nights pass in a soundless, black void that spans an eternity and a second in the same moment. You seem to wait as you lay there, paralyzed and trapped inside your own head, for something to change, something to happen, but nothing ever does. There's just more darkness, more quiet, more _nothing_. And just when you think you're about to go stark-raving mad from lack of stimulation, you wake up—laying in exactly the same position that you were in when you slipped under. Not a hair out of place, not a wrinkle in sight. Perfect, posed and strangely refreshed.

It really gives new meaning to 'sleeping like the dead'.

I think dreaming is the one thing about sleeping as a human that I really miss. I can do without the blankets and the pillows or whatever, but it's the dreaming to pass the time that I can't stand to be without. I guess it's one of those things that you don't realize you need until it's gone and your can never have it back (talk about cliché much?). Sleeping as a vampire—and I'm not really even comfortable using that word, 'sleeping', to be honest—isn't a comforting experience.

Actually, to be honest, the mental silence makes it a little bit frightening: the absolute perfection of the quiet makes it seem like something bad is _going_ to happen—you just don't know when. To make a horrible attempt at analogy (because this is something that you can never really understand until you've felt it for yourself), it's like that point in every slasher flick where the main character is being chased by the machete-wielding murderer through some random abandoned building. You don't know _when_ the killer is going to pop out of some inconspicuous closet hidden in a dark hallway, but you know that it's _going_ to happen. Eventually. That anticipation combined with the eery absence of sound (because they always kill the music at that part of the film—always), makes fertile ground for fear to take root and mutate into unbridled terror. It's like enduring an interminable nightmare every night that you can never, ever wake up from on your own.

Oh, and while we're on the subject of nightmares, David wasn't kidding when he said that I would be 'surprised' when I saw what my new 'sleeping arrangements' would be. I think it goes without saying, but any sane female—living, dead or otherwise—would rather sleep on a bed of razor blades each night than have to share a hole in the wall (because I refuse to call it a 'cave' in a serious context) with four… _boys_. Three out of the four of them, I might add, are immature to a level previously unknown to mankind. I mean, seriously. I would walk ten miles uphill (both ways) in the blistering cold each and every sunset for a little breathing room. I'm all for being 'one of the guys', don't get me wrong—but just not _that_ much. And don't even get me started on the whole 'upside-down' thing, either. I may be a vampire but I'm not a bat and I don't ever intend to act like one.

_Ever_.

Luckily enough for me, I suppose, I found a rather custom-made niche in the 'cave' (can you feel the sarcasm?) wall about four feet above the others'… feet. It's honestly a bit of a tight fit—I can _just _squeeze in length wise, my nose practically scrapes the ceiling and there's only about an inch or two between me and a rather long fall to the ground—but, as I found out, it's not like I'm going to be doing much tossing and turning any time soon. So, all in all, it's really quite an alright set up. Beats letting all of the blood rush to your head—in my opinion, anyway. Maybe that's how I managed to wake up earlier than the others: having an equal distribution of vital fluids around my body instead of having them congeal all in one place.

But regardless of the science behind what happened, it was nice to be alone for a few minutes, to have a half hour of quiet time before the wolves descended again. I snuck (if you can even use that word to describe flying) out of our group hidey hole, floating ever so quietly over the others and out the narrow passageway to the main cavern. Surprisingly, I didn't really have to think about doing it either: I just kind of rolled off of my little perch and _flew_, maneuvering nimbly through the air like I had been born able. The cavern was silent aside from the droning of the sea as I touched back down on terra firma, so I decided to take a moment to just lay quietly and relax. After quickly surveying the multitude of comfortable places to rest, I lounged out on the too-short settee that Dwayne had occupied the night before and closed my eyes. The sun must not have been completely below the horizon yet because, as I lay there, I realized that I felt slightly sluggish and a bit drowsy. Not that it mattered, really: it actually felt nice compared to the waking hell I had just endured.

Letting out a little sigh, I relaxed a little bit more against the cushions and let my mind wander. I thought about the my most recent conversation with David, how I hadn't gone to see Max in a while, home, David, my friends, David… I couldn't seem to focus on one thing for more than a few seconds at a time but, like the sluggishness that was plaguing me, it didn't matter either. I was happy wasting time doing nothing, waiting on the boys for a change.

Talk about opposite day, huh?

Content to lay and doze, I continued to let my mind wander. At some point after another few rampant thoughts about David slipped in and out of my head I had started rubbing my hand along the fabric beneath me. I was taking a moment to consider how I could feel each of the fabric's fibres bending against my skin, tickling the little ridges and imperfections, when _it_ started again.

_…__ Felicia__…__ Felicia__… __**Felicia.**_

Like a broken record, the voice I had heard the night previous intruded into my head disrupting my thoughts. It started quietly at first, like a nagging whisper at the back of my head reminding me of something terribly important yet excruciatingly awful that I had forgotten to deal with. I tried to ignore it (naturally) by attempting to imagine what Sean and Rachel were up to in my absence, but that just made the nagging whispers get worse. With each second that I spent trying to ignore them, the sounds doubled in volume until I could hardly hear the ocean outside.

___… ____Felicia… Felicia… Felicia…_

My name was now echoing and ringing inside my head as if I were standing underneath a giant cathedral bell. The chastising, familiar tone that I _still _couldn't quite place was bouncing around inside my skull like a pounding migraine to the point where I actually started to feel pain. My temples were throbbing, the intense and dull ache spreading downwards and throughout my body as I tried to fight the need to move that the disembodied voice always evoked in me. My legs burned as I fought to keep them still, my hands spasmed as I clutched the edges of the cushioned settee to restrain myself. It was taking everything I had to stay put, to not just get up and leave.

___ … ____Felicia._

And leaving would have been so easy. I was alone, wasn't I? David and the others weren't here to stop me, to ask me where I was going and why I was in such a hurry to run off without them. I could just slip outside and no one would be the wiser… well, that is until David woke up—which wouldn't be long now: I could feel myself growing more awake under the wracking pains—and tracked me down.

… Yeah, because _that_ was an exchange worth repeating.

_… __**FELICIA**__._

I clutched my hands tighter to the cushion beneath my back, praying that the cacophonous noise inside my head would stop. My latest string of errant thoughts had only made the noise worse, bringing the volume close to unbearable. The bones in my skull felt as if they would fracture, my muscles like they were being pulled by chains away from my bones and in the direction of town. I wanted to leave, to find the source of such an immense and painful irritation but I couldn't risk leaving. I didn't have the time to go without getting caught.

"Felicia!"

Marko and Paul's synchronized outburst startled me and I jolted upright. I stared over in their direction, scrambling to calm my expression—I could feel contorting my face into a grimace—as they leapt down from the top of the ramshackle elevator cart that disguised the entrance to our daytime hideout. I could see them clearly through the darkness as they approached, their faces seemingly carefree. Apparently, I was getting better at this whole 'burying your emotions for later' thing.

Score one for the home team.

"Decided to get up, hm?" I said, my thoughts suddenly (and very curiously) clear from intrusions.

"Don't sound so disappointed," Paul chuckled, smug, before he flitted across the room to toss a lit match into one of the old oil drums.

I rolled my eyes to mask the fact that I was watching David slink around the fountain towards 'his' old office chair. I could feel him watching me before he disappeared behind the concrete and turned his back to me. Being me, I made the (rookie) mistake of continuing to watch David out of the corner of my eye as he went to sit down. So it goes without saying that I really have no excuse for getting caught staring.

David flashed me his signature half-smirk as he relaxed against the frayed and torn leather cushions, the wheels squeaking ever so quietly as they bore his weight. Before, I never would have been able to hear that sound from so far away—we were more than just a foot or two apart—but, now that I could, it made me feel… special. Or, to put it a little less 'unicorns-and-kittens', like I was like a part of something. That little sound—the minute, high-pitched squeak that rusted metal makes—was all it took for me to realize why, until now, David had always looked at me like I was missing out on a great joke—a joke that I was now a part of.

Astounding what chairs are capable of, hm?

I gave David the full weight of my gaze when he let out a barely-audible sigh. He met my eyes instantly, obviously never having looked away from me in the first place. A mixture of deep thought, happiness and amusement was sparkling in his eyes which made me wonder what he was thinking of. He seemed to be in a much better mood than the night before—he had been a sour-puss for the rest of the night after our conversation had collapsed into a heaping pile of flaming you-know-what—which boded well for the rest of us (myself especially). I was worried that he was still going to be angry with me for some of the rather idiotic things I had said but it looked like that wasn't going to be an issue.

David gave me a mysterious little shake of his head, his smirk blossoming into a full-blown, albeit subdued (but still breathtakingly gorgeous), smile. I could also hear him laughing under his breath, his shoulders shaking ever so slightly from the effort it was taking to stay mute. I had done something to make him laugh but, for the life of me, I couldn't figure out what it was. As far as I remembered, I hadn't made a face at him, made any noises or even so much as really moved. Well, okay, I might have turned to look at him better but that could hardly be called 'hilarious'.

I glared at David as he continued to chuckle, his eyes sparkling vividly with mirth. What could I have possibly done that was so funny? I was just sitting here, looking at him. My arms were folded tightly, my legs crossed at the ankles. I hadn't so much as twitched this whole time so what could have _possibly_ been so funny? Did I have something on my face? Was there something wrong with my hair? Was my fly open?

_'What?'_ I asked David with my eyes, pointedly raising my eyebrows to better get my displeasure across. I would have liked to have screamed the question at him but I didn't want to give the others any more reason to think I was absolutely bat-shit crazy.

David quieted his nearly-silent laughter to respond, shaking his head mutely. _'Nothing,'_ he seemed to say even though his smirk clearly said otherwise.

_'Liar,'_ I mouthed back, trying to pour as much venom into my glare as possible. That, of course, only made David snicker even more.

I just can't win.

Frustrated, I finally looked away. I focused on watching Marko as he tossed a lit piece of paper into the last oil drum. Truthfully, I would have rather turned back to David but I didn't want to give him the satisfaction (or serve myself the embarrassment) of doing so.

"So, we leaving or what?" Paul asked loudly as he sauntered past Marko, conspicuously bumping into the smaller boy.

Dwayne scoffed from my right before he sent a discarded bottle cap whizzing through the air like a bullet, aiming it directly at Paul's passing head. It missed him by a fraction of an inch. "Stupid question, Paul."

"Ha ha ha, Fuck you, Dwayne," Paul sneered before he lounged out on one of the mattresses.

"Well, someone has to point it out."

"So? I don't point out that you're a dick every time you…"

I stopped listening as Dwayne and Paul continued picking on each other, their harmless banter tiresome. Although this was really the pattern of every day I had ever spent with David and the boys, I couldn't help but allow a small portion of myself to continue to hope for change, for something… _random_ to happen. Stay in for once, maybe, or just do something different. Yeah, okay, it wasn't like we could just go to the movies or whatever but that doesn't mean that we couldn't try something new. Variety is the space of life, after all.

And, honestly, now that I thought about it, I really didn't feel like going to town tonight. Okay, so maybe I never feel like going into Santa Carla with the boys—but that's really beside the point. Even though I hadn't had 'fed' since the night I turned—and my body was beginning to make that very clear to me: my muscles were aching constantly, now that I thought about it—I didn't feel like running out and changing that fact. I knew what 'going out' meant, now, and, honestly, I didn't really want to be a part of it anymore. I didn't want to scour the crowds like an animal, trying to find the person that would, quite literally, drive me crazy. Ignoring what I was made me feel a little more normal, more like my old self

"What's up?" David asked suddenly, appearing almost instantaneously on my side on the fountain. He seated himself easily on the old tiles, leaning towards me with a playfully interested look on his face.

I looked back at him, taking a split second to peruse the wondrous planes of his perfect face. "Nothing, why?" I said with a shrug, thinking it best to not come out and say how bothered I was about our 'group plans'.

David laughed, as expected, the sound sending acute shivers up and down my spine. "You're frowning," he offered as an explanation. His voice was confident like he had just caught me in a lie—which he had.

Blast and damn.

I let out a little growl before I massaged my forehead with both of my hands, trying to smooth out the little lines and creases I could feel there. "I have to work on that," I muttered, avoiding the subject at hand.

"Or," David said casually, trying to mask the laughter in his voice and doing a terrible job, "you could just tell me what's on your mind."

Yeah, about that… I'd rather not. "Since when do you care what's I'm thinking about?" I asked, forcing my voice to sound lighthearted instead of defensive.

"Good question," David chuckled as he flicked his eyes over my shoulder to watch something that was going on behind me. I waited quietly, albeit a little impatiently, for him to return his attention to me, not bothering to look at what the Three Stooges were up to. It didn't really matter, anyway.

"I'm full of those," I said with a smile when David looked back to me.

"I see that," he smirked, unconsciously leaning just a little bit closer to me. "But, c'mon, stop trying to avoid my question. Spill."

Again, blast and damn.

"Geez, you're persistent tonight," I grumbled. When David didn't say anything in rebuttal, I was forced to continue. Instead of coming up with a lie (which probably wouldn't have worked out in my favour in the end anyway), I bit the bullet and spat out the truth.

"I just don't want to go out," I said plainly, possibly edging on being callous, with a 'that's-how-it-is' shrug. "I think I'm going to stay here without you; I have a lot to think about."

David laughed, the sound lost beneath the noise Paul and Marko were making in the background. "You're coming with us," he said matter-of-factly, his good-humor evaporating when he noticed my disbelieving expression.

"No, I'm not," I said toxically, glaring at David when his expression didn't soften, "I'm staying here."

"Yes, you are," he snapped back, frowning right back at me with ice-cold eyes.

"You can't make me do anything, David," I hissed back, my frustration level shooting past exasperation to nearly enraged (in what would have been) a heartbeat.

David scoffed, the sound grating on my nerves like rusty nails being dragged down the world's longest chalkboard. "Yes, I can," he said flatly, the threat behind his words shining clearly through his even tone.

I glared at him as I tried to come up with a good response. Truthfully, David had made me do a lot of things since I met him, ranging from jumping off a bridge to committing murder. So, really, he was right: David could make me do what ever he wanted. And it didn't help that I was head-over-crazy in love with him—for no particular reason at all, I might add. So,honestly when all was said and done, I really had nothing to go on.

… Losing battle, much?

I watched David's lips curl slowly into a self-satisfied, triumphal smirk as I struggled to come up with even a semi-intelligent response. His joy at seeing me fail only made me angrier still.

"I'll just run off again," I said snarkily, acting as much of a four-year-old as Paul frequently did.

David glared at me, his grin deflating in a flash. "I'll hunt you down, just like I did the other night," he threatened, frustration making a brief appearance through his anger.

The sad part was, though, I didn't doubt that he would. "I don't care," I sneered. "A few hours alone is better than nothing."

"Try 'minutes'," he growled through bared teeth. "I'm faster than you."

Dick.

"Fine!" I said loudly, losing my cool entirely. Everything stopped around David and I—meaning Paul and Dwayne finally ceased trying to break each other's noses—and went deathly quiet. Normally, I would have been embarrassed but I was just too furious to care. I was literally seeing red as I continued.

"You know," I spat viciously, "for someone who's so desperate to have my trust, you're doing a piss-poor job of earning it."

I barely had time to see David's shocked expression before I got up and stormed outside.

Although I felt like I could suddenly run a hundred miles, I stopped myself from going any farther than the rickety railing just outside of the cave mouth. I rushed up to the decaying planks, anchoring myself against them. I cradled my chin firmly in my palm and brooded, exerting my excess energy into maintaining a dark frown. I glared out at the ocean, watching the surf froth against the rocks for what felt like a hundred-million years before I heard someone approach.

"You better not faint again," I heard David say, his voice relaxed like nothing had just happened, "because I'm not going to catch you this time."

"Very funny," I said quietly, not really in the mood for jokes. Exerting energy into being mad had drained me and, as I shifted my attention to maintaining a conversation, I suddenly felt very tired.

I didn't bother looking as David as he rested against the railing beside me, his hands hanging lazily out over the sea. He didn't feel tense next to me which was a good sign but, honestly, I couldn't make myself care: I was too tired and upset. So, instead of running my mouth, I stood in an exasperated and exhausted silence, waiting for David to say what he had to say (I reasoned that he wouldn't have followed me out if he didn't).  
"What would you do if I left you on your own?" David eventually asked after a minute of quiet, his voice cautious as if he were bracing for an answer he didn't really want to hear. I could just imagine the guarded coldness in his eyes, hardening his beautiful blue irises to ice.

I didn't dare to check.  
Instead I thought carefully about my answer, mulling over my options. "I dunno," I shrugged, "probably start off by spending a few hours laying in bed, relaxing. And then, I think, I'd go for a walk. I wouldn't go far—maybe to the other side of town and back or something. Might stop in to say hi to Max along the way, but that's about it.

"I wouldn't run off and join the circus, if that's what you're worried about," I concluded wryly. "I don't really have the 'urge' to be around people anymore."

David chuckled, genuinely amused. "Well, that's better than what I had in mind."

"And what was that?" I asked dryly.

"Mayhem, destruction, murderous rampages… that kinda stuff," he sighed, mimicking my detached and exhausted tone.

"I'm glad you have such a high opinion of my self-control," I said sarcastically, unable to keep a small grin from creeping onto my lips. David always knew just what to say to make me smile—even when I didn't want to.

David was silent for a moment, thinking. I could feel him looking at me, analyzing my face, his gaze intense but not critical. He was happy in a subdued way, like he was looking at a photograph that he loved dearly but hadn't seen in a very long time.

"You know," David finally said, his voice strangely calm as if he was overcompensating to hide something, "I would trust you more if you'd…"

"If I'd what?" I asked cautiously when David trailed off hesitantly; I couldn't help but turn to look at him to gauge his expression. David's eyes were as hard as ice but not because he was mad: he was nervous. A tiny pucker of a frown had formed on his perfect brow, completely betraying the apprehension that he was obviously trying so hard to hide from me. Otherwise, David was wearing a pleasant smile and, to the casual observer, would have seemed perfectly at ease.

David paused for a long moment as I scrutinized him, trying to imagine what he possible could be preparing to say. "If you, uh… _drank_ something," David finally said, smirking ruefully at his own black humor.

"I'm fine," I replied reflexively, my tone robotic and cold, "I'm not thirsty."

The truth was, after I took a nanosecond to run a self-diagnostic, I was lying. Just the smallest hint of a reference to… _obtaining sustenance _made my body hurt. Even though I hadn't thought about 'it' for more than a moment, my throat had already begun to burn and itch, my gut to tense and ache painfully. My muscles followed suit, sending agony radiating through me like a fire that burned all the way through to the core of my bones.

My reactionary pain quickly became too much for me to handle. I could feel my face contorting into a pained grimace as I stared at David, watching him watch me dissolve. I turned away to hide my expression as I struggled to fight back my body's fury and regain control of myself. I could have cried out from the hurt and want that was raging within me. Luckily, though, I managed to limit myself to wearing a heavy scowl as I stared, unblinking, at the rocks.

"You look like you are to me," David said stiffly, my visceral reaction having put no pause to our conversation.

"I'm not," I managed to spit out through clenched teeth as another wave of discomfort crashed through me.

David was silent again and I could feel his gaze becoming more pointed and intense as the seconds ticked by. I tried to force my face into a relaxed, natural smile to show him but I couldn't make my face react properly. I resigned to leaving things as they were with the back of my head acting as a barrier between David's anger and my denial.

"You can't keep acting like a martyr forever," David said after a while, his tone a mixture of annoyance, pain and a heavy dose of frustration to ice it off.

I didn't bother trying to respond or argue; nothing I could have said would have made much of a difference. Because, as much as I realized there was truth behind David's words, I didn't want to admit he was right. I didn't want to admit, aloud, that, yes, eventually I would do the thing that I wanted to refrain from crumbling to at all costs: willingly hurting another person. I didn't want to be the monster I had unwillingly turned into, even if it meant suffering on my part. Things were better that way.

David continued, taking my silence as acceptance (which it was… sort of). "I'll cut you a deal: you go out with me tonight—just the two of us," he appended when I involuntarily turned to give him a skeptical stare, "and tomorrow I'll leave you alone to do whatever you want."

I bit my tongue to prevent myself from spitting out an automatic 'no'. Instead I took a moment to consider all of the angles of David's proposal, trying to find just how he was going to cheat me. Instinctively, I checked David's expression first: that was always a good way to tell if he was lying to me outright. He wasn't avoiding my eyes, which was a good sign, and seemed to be amused rather than annoyed that I was taking so long to answer. Experience dictated that he never acted so relaxed when trying to pull the wool over my eyes; instead, he would avoid looking in my direction at all costs and literally _ooze_ anxiety.

Security check phase one: cleared.

After running back over the deal again a few times, I couldn't seem to find any double-meaning behind any of the words. As hard as I tried, I couldn't see any other out come of David's offer than we would 'go out' tonight and I would get to be alone tomorrow, no strings attached. Aside from the fact that I was only going to get one night of free time, it wasn't really a bad compromise.

… Actually, on second thought, I take that back: it wasn't just a good compromise, it was a great compromise. David's deal favoured _me_. I was going to get a few hours alone with him (please, don't judge) _and_ a night alone. Admittedly, the price was a bit high—one human life—but, seeing as I assumed the terms would end up being non-negotiable, that (sadly) sat well with me.

"What's the catch?" I asked warily, trying to stop the bubble of enthusiasm that has started forming in my chest from making an appearance in my voice.

David let out a muted chuckle as he shook his head at me, his eyes glinting like diamonds even in the shadows that surrounded us. "There's no catch," he said earnestly, his eyes exposing the plea he managed to hold back. Apparently, both of us were trying to save face for the other. Go figure.

"And stop trying to second-guess me," David added when I refrained from making a response again.

Although I was frowning at him for calling me out, I took one last quick survey of David's expression—calm, amused and, surprisingly, open in comparison to how upset he had been only a minute ago—before I made up my mind. I wanted to be sure that he wasn't trying to trick me by distracting me with his looks (which, I have to say, really wouldn't have been that hard… and, yes, I _do_ realize how pathetic that is, thank you).

"Fine, okay," I conceded, causing a war between nerves and elation to ignite in my chest.

"Awesome," David said quickly, his voice filled with undisguised triumph as he made sure I had no time to change my mind. "Let's go."


	19. Chapter 19

___I'm back!_

___After a long an arduous winter semester, I've finally been graced with some time off. I spent the last few days working on this chapter, starting and re-starting it more than five times. I think this 14,000 word monster of a version is an excellent result for all my effort, and I have to say that I'm rather happy with it. Chapter 20 is already in the works, but I think (for the sake of flow), I'm going to split that into two installments._

___To keep things short, I would like to give another 'thank you' too all of you who read ____Second Chance ____and submit reviews. I love to hear your thoughts on my story and knowing that there are others who enjoy Felicia's story as much as I enjoy writing it makes my hobby all the more rewarding._

___So, without further ado, I present to all of you Chapter 19. Please, read and enjoy!_

___Sincerely,_

___Amaryllidinae_

* * *

**Nineteen**

BEFORE I COULD EVEN think about bracing myself, David had pulled my hand out from under my chin (making me nearly fall nose-first into the rail), grabbed me around the waist and started hauling me through the air towards the top of the bluff. Startled, I tried, however futilely, to struggle free of his grip. That, of course, didn't really get me any where, but it was worth a try nevertheless.

… Okay, time for plan 'B'.

"Hey! David, slow down," I spluttered instead of continuing to fight the cage of his arms—and yes, that was my back-up plan if pan 'A' (AKA: 'Operation Freedom') failed. I know it may seem a little ridiculous, but, even as a vampire, I'm still no match against David's strength. I swear, his muscles are made of wrought iron. Possibly Adamantium, but most likely iron.

"Why" David asked, his voice nearing on elated. I would have looked to see his expression but I was too busy having my face crammed into his chest to be able to see anything.

"Shouldn't we—_you__—_have said something to Dwayne, Paul and Marko?" I mumbled pointedly to David's wonderfully sculpted pecks. "They're going to have no idea what's going on or where we are."

I felt David laugh against me, the sensation enough to make a blush bloom, invisible and hot, in my chest. Had I been able to, I probably would have turned a nice shade of crimson to boot. "Don't worry about them," he said simply before he unexpectedly let me go, mid-air.

Without thinking about it, I floated a few inches backwards and hesitated next to David when he, too, stopped ascending. "I don't mean to sound like I care," I said flatly, making sure to lay on the sarcasm, "but I'm sure they're going to want to know what's going on."

David looked back at me, his gaze equally pointed despite the signature half-smirk that was seated comfortably on his beautiful lips. "I already told them," he said by way of explanation, his tone implying that he thought this was a sufficient answer.

Nice try.

I arched an eyebrow, skeptical. "How would you have known that I would say 'yes' to tell them we were leaving?" I demanded, crossing my arms over my chest.

Wriggle your way out of that one, Houdini.

Something close to panic flashed through the icy spheres of David's eyes, the same distress manifesting in a slight downward curve to the edges of his cocky grin. This only lasted a second, though: it wasn't long before he was back to grinning at me like he was in on a joke that I wasn't. "How many times have I told you, Felicia?" He asked, using my full name—as usual. "You're the easiest read on the face of the planet; I knew you'd say yes before I even asked."

… Jerk.

I scowled at him, detesting the way David's smile always widened as my frustration with him mounted. "Fine," I spat quietly, struggling to maintain my upset demeanour as echoes of my pain suddenly decided to resurface. Just the slightest _hint_ of the conversation David and I had earlier was enough to make my body start aching. "Where are we going?"

David smiled, his eyes glittering with a mixture of excitement and what could have been worry (I wasn't entirely sure: he turned his face away from me the second our eyes met). "That's for me to know and you to find out," he challenged, playful once again.

I am _so_ not in the mood for games.

"Look, David," I groaned, my arms dropping reflexively to my sides as exasperation washed though me, "I'm being nice—"

"—Try and keep up," David interjected, cutting me off mid-complaint.

"What?" I replied, confused. I waited, anxious and patient, for David to clarify—no matter how vague that clarification ended up being. When David did finally turn his face back to me, I involuntarily let out the tiniest sigh of relief. That relief was short lived, though, because I could now see the wide, mischievous grin that was smeared across David's lips. Instantly, my heart fell to my toes.

"Try to keep up," David repeated, his tone impish and full of energy. Without another word, he shot off through the sky like a black and platinum rocket, disappearing over the ridge of the bluff before I could blink.

… Remind me again why I agree to anything David says?

Startled, I took off after him without thinking. Willing myself forward with every ounce of concentration I could muster, I picked up speed and gracefully soared up and over the bluff, blazing through the air like a phantom jet. The wind was howling in my ears as if I was standing inside of a rocket engine and my hair was whipping against my back like a cat o' nine tails, but it didn't matter. I was so concerned with catching up to David—I could see the outline of him, his coat billowing out behind him like a cape not too far ahead of me—that I couldn't focus on much else; my mind was very 'one-track' lately, so I only barely registered the fact that we were headed _away_ from Santa Carla instead of towards it as per usual. Regardless, I continued picking up speed, blasting ever faster forward though the surprisingly frigid air until I began to close the gap between David and I. It wasn't long before I was directly on his tail, effectively ending the lead he had on me in a matter of a few minutes, tops.

Relieved to be in David's immediate vicinity again, I slowed my frantic pace to match his and close the last few feet separating us. Pulling up next to David, I hovered about three feet from his right. Confident I could keep myself from straying out of plumb without much thought, I glanced over at David to try and gleam some information as to where we were going. His earlier grin was still in place, though, if it was at all possible, it was wider than I had ever seen before. David's eyes were glittering like sapphires in the bright moonlight as he raced through the sky next to me, the joy he was experiencing manifesting clearly on his face. My original intention had been to ask where exactly he was dragging me off to but, suddenly, I felt the need to… _not interrupt_. David seemed so happy now, with his hair fluttering about like blades of grass in a hurricane and the wind assaulting his perfect skin, that it felt like it would be rude to ask him anything. I rarely had the opportunity to seem him like this—so obviously happy and free—that I decided to wait out my tense anticipation and, for once, just let our destination be a surprise. It was worth the anticipation to watch David shamelessly indulging in something.

Shocking, I know. I'm amazed I just said that, too.

So, resigned to waiting (however impatiently), I looked around to try and assess where David and I were racing off to. It didn't really do me any good—all I really knew was that we were headed away from Santa Carla, possibly in the general direction of Santa Cruz—but it was something to do. From what I could gather, we were racing not too far from the coastline—with my heightened senses, I could hear the gentle roar of the ocean in the distance, even over the howling wind—and possibly following the winding path of a highway. We were far out in the country now, quickly covering miles of the no-man's land that always exists between towns. The landscape was hilly yet open, and covered with small shrubs, clusters of ancient trees and miles of grass. Occasionally, I could see a farmer's field plotted out within the sea of green and brown below, the precious section of land encircled by some form of barbed wire fence. Quaint farmhouses sat, dark and asleep, on these expansive properties, the moonlight washing the colour from each of their tired frames.

Each of us still completely silent, David and I flew together, racing silently across the night sky like phantom shadows. We mirrored each other's slightest movements and never moved more than a few feet apart as we sailed through the air, each obviously afraid to lose sight of the other (though for very different reasons). It was very relaxing to fly like this with David: I didn't have to worry about saying anything or making a fool of myself. I could just enjoy the fact that I was next to him—that I had him all to myself. Minutes passed by like seconds this way, with David hovering silently next to my side, until, unexpectedly, he stopped. Shooting past him, I slammed on the breaks and (now rather embarrassed) did a one-eighty. Glad that my body was incapable of betraying my emotions to the world, I drifted back to David's side. Once there was a more comfortable cushion of space between our two hovering bodies, I paused, too, and waited for him to tell me what was going on. A few minutes went by without instruction and, finally fed up with being left in the dark (yet again), I said what had been on my mind for the past fifteen minutes.

"What's going on?" I asked, keeping my tone light and happy. It wasn't hard really, despite the fact that I was annoyed I still had no idea where we were going. The stomach-tingling sense of euphoria that flight always caused was still bubbling away within me; I couldn't help but be pleasant.

David was mute for a few more seconds, scrutinizing something on the ground below as if he were an owl scouting out a rabbit to kill. Before I could follow his gaze down to the ground, he looked back up at me, his expression stoney beneath the mask of calmness he was trying to force on. "We're going to drop down to the road," he explained simply, his tone even and measured as if he was trying not to frighten me. "I'll tell you what to do after that."

I was instantly cautious about what was going to happen once we got back down to the ground, but tried not to let it show. "Okay," I said, keeping my voice as normal as possible. I didn't want David to catch on to the shock of regret that was wriggling and expanding in my chest.

Without another word, David began to fall towards the earth like a stone. Not wanting to be left behind again I followed him, easily controlling my equally rapid descent without much thought. I briefly enjoyed the strange sensation of gravity yanking my body downwards by my navel before I landed, my feet soundlessly making contact with the uneven ground.

I could feel David nearby somewhere in front of me in the shadows, but, instead of running to look for him, I decided it was better to wait for him to come to me. Looking around, I tried to figure out exactly what part of 'nowhere' David had taken me to. I was standing a few feet beyond the mouth of an untended gravel road that was flanked on both sides by a tunnel of looming cypress trees. The moon was completely obscured here, making it difficult to see much more than varying degrees of blackness. The only light came from behind me where a paved road, possibly a divergent portion of the highway we had been loosely following from above, lay, but even that had an unwelcoming aura about it.

Everything around this isolated section of road was silent: no animal sounds came from the trees, no cars rumbled (near or far) in the distance. We really were out in the middle of nowhere, somewhere far removed from either Santa Cruz or Santa Carla; a perfect place for something terrible to transpire. It was like I had (literally) dropped out of the sky and directly into a horror movie, exactly at that pivotal moment when the main female character is trying to decide whether to run away from the haunted log cabin or turn back to save her lover.

"Felicia," I heard David call, his voice never rising above a whisper despite his firm tone, "come here."

"Yes, my liege," I muttered as I turned my back completely on what little light there was behind me and followed the sound of David's voice. Assuming from his tone that I was meant to keep quiet, I made sure that I stepped lightly enough against the gravel as to not make a sound. I started off walking hesitantly at first, unsure of exactly where David was, but it wasn't long before I could clearly make out his outline in the blackness. Picking up my pace, but keeping my footfalls eerily soundless, I went to stand next to David.

I could make out his face easily in the blackness now that we were close (although it would have been easier still had there been any light at all filtering through the dense canopy of trees above). David's expression was furrowed as he watched me approach, as if he was trying to understand a film that was dubbed out of sync. "How are you doing that?" He asked abruptly, his voice inaudible to any ears other than mine.

… Well 'hi' to you, too!

I stopped close enough to David to make conversation easy, but not close enough to make myself act awkwardly. "Doing what?" I shot back, equally quiet and sharp.

Oh, and, just F.Y.I: if you say 'walking in a straight line without tripping', I'm going to slap you so hard _Dwayne_ will feel it.

"Walking so quietly," David explained, with a roll of his eyes. "What else?"

Yeah, because that was totally obvious. Stupid me for not realizing!

"I dunno," I shrugged back, at a total loss. "Just trying to be quiet, I guess. You were, so I thought it was important. Why does it matter?"

I watched as David's brow furrowed, unconsciously, as he gazed back at me, instantly lost in thought. Seconds ticked by as we stood there, David picking over every square micrometer of my face as if he to find some sort of explanation. I stood starkly still, staring back and completely confused.

Anxious, I broke the intense silence that had fallen between us. "David," I scoffed quietly, trying to sound good humored rather than worried, "you're looking at me like I've just destroyed the theory of relativity. Quit it."

Another split second of intolerable silence ensured before David grunted some unintelligible sound and glanced away. When he looked back at me, I could see that he had composed his calculating expression into something friendlier. His eyes were alight with their usual mischief, but there was a flurry of other emotions hidden just beneath the icy surface of his irises. David's usual cocky half-grin was planted firmly in place on his glorious lips, though the angle was off ever so slightly at the edges. He was apprehensive and nervous—just like I was.

"C'mon," he said pleasantly with a quick nod in the opposite direction, before he turned on his heel and started walking, soundlessly, away from me along the road.

I followed, keeping close to him like a second shadow—near enough to touch, but far enough apart so we never did. We walked the long and winding road in silence, navigating through the pitch-black shadows created by the canopy of the cypress trees with ease. Truthfully, I was happy enough just to be alone with David. I didn't need conversation to fill the air if it wasn't necessary. It always seemed that, if I was ever trying to make small talk just for small-talk's sake, I always ended up saying something completely idiotic and embarrassing. In my opinion, it was better, as my father once suggested, to speak when needed instead of saying something regretful.

A tense energy had sparked, somewhere along the way, within the comfortable silence that existed between David and I. Not uncomfortable in the slightest, this was the kind of tenseness that had, once upon a time, made my stomach do nervous flip-flops and my heart quiver with anticipation. That feeling was still strong inside my chest, but there was no revealing physical reaction on my part—no blushing, no racing pulse, no trembling hands. It was nice to be able to be around David without letting him know the instant I let my mind wander or my emotions get the better of me.

We continued to walk along in silence, the road stretching on forever through the blackness, until I heard a small, heavy sigh escape past the barrier of David's lips. I looked up at him, instantly curious, to take in his expression. His beautiful lips were set firmly in a line, the edges turning downward in the barest hint of a frown. This hardness was mirrored in his eyes, which were cold, distant and focused on something far beyond here, as if he were deep in thought. The tiny pucker that always appeared on David's brow when he was concerned was making its presence known, too: the tiny flaw on his immaculate face belied the tumult of emotions that was raging beneath his smooth, cool façade.

"What's up?" I asked in hushed tones, not thinking about what I was saying. As soon as the words had left my mouth and I _heard_ them, though, the inane undercurrent of my question came quickly around to backhand me across the face.

As if David would tell me if something was really the matter. Ha, good one Flic.

"Nothing," David whispered back calmly, flicking his eyes down to mine to prove his point. His irises had liquified once more, their blue cores shining brightly through the darkness around us, and his half-smirk was back in place. If I hadn't known better, I would have assumed he was being honest.

I rolled my eyes pointedly, making him chuckle. "I may have been born yesterday, but I'm not stupid," I said, unable to keep from smiling myself.

"That's up for debate," David purred mischievously with a wink and a grin.

I glared at him though the effect I was going for was lost because of the smile I was wearing. I couldn't help but be happy when David was happy; it was as if our moods were magnetically attracted to each other. "Ouch!" I mouthed dramatically. "That's the last time I say anything nice to you," I huffed as I gave David a small shove. He stumbled a step to the left, never making a sound.

"You line them up, I just knock 'em down," he laughed, easily falling back into stride with my gait. Our hands brushed as he neared me, sending a small jolt of excitement up through my arm and to my chest.

Had I still been alive, my face would have turned as red as a beet.

"That doesn't mean you can't let a few slide," I said slowly, forcing back the giddy grin that was suddenly trying to worm its way onto my lips.

David laughed heartily, though the sound never rose above a whisper. "No can do," he grinned when I glared playfully at him. "Sorry."

"And just why not?" I complained, playfully bumping into him with my shoulder for effect. Even though his layers of jackets, I could feel the raw power of David's muscles against my arm. Just the thought of seeing his perfectly sculpted limbs without their protective shrouds sent waves of heat racing through me.

… Wow. I am the world's biggest lecher.

David grinned impishly down at me, trying to wrestle the smile he was wearing back into a more restrained half-smirk. It didn't work, but it was still fun to watch. Every so often, he would get his grin under control, only to have to start all over again when one corner of his mouth would begin to turn back up. "Well, I can't make everything easy for you," he snickered eventually, giving up on trying to appear serious.

"No," I said sarcastically, playing along, "that would just make our conversations boring, wouldn't it?"

"Exactly my point," David chuckled. "And you said we never agree on anything."

"Actually," I said through a wide grin as I lightly punched David's rock-hard bicep, "I told you not to get used to me agreeing with you. Your lucky stars must be aligned for it to have happened again so quickly."

David pretended to massage his arm like I had actually hurt him. "Guess I better push my luck as far as it'll go, then," he replied slyly, his eyes glittering ever so slightly for effect.

"You're impossible," I muttered, still smiling as I looked away, back down the road. The canopy of the cypress tunnel that surrounded us was beginning to thin out slightly, as if someone had scaled several of the massive trees and systematically chopped away some branches. Because of this, moonlight was filtering down onto the road in large, white patches here and there, etching out a strange pattern against the slate flakes below.

"Where are we going?" I asked, blurting out another stupid question without thinking.

"Not too much farther," David whispered back as he suddenly reached out and wrapped one of his gloved hands around my wrist. Before I could resist, he had pulled me off of the road and into the twisted mess of small bushes and trees beyond the semi-manicured cypress wall. "And keep quiet," he instructed when I opened my mouth to ask another stupid 'W-5' question.

Taken aback by David's abruptness, I kept my mouth sealed firmly shut and let him lead me though the tangled mess of shrubbery. We walked, the silence that existed between us now something a little more than uncomfortable, for minutes, each step making me more and more anxious. Not only did I not understand why we had suddenly veered off into hiding (it wasn't like we had been talking in more than whispers), but the pace which David was pulling me at was also worrisome. I could feel how tense his body was through his hand, his grip firm as if he was scared I would try running away if he didn't hold on tight enough. It felt like it took an eternity before David stopped and turned to me. It took every ounce of strength I had to not walk (ha, more like 'jog') directly into his back.

"I need you to promise me something," David whispered after he turned to me, swiftly exchanging the tight grip he had on my wrist from one bear-trap-like hand the other. His voice urgent and serious now, flawlessly matching the steely determination that was blooming in his eyes.

"What?" I hedged, instantly wary. I didn't like where this was going; the frantic gleam in David's eyes made me suspicious that he was planing something less than savory.

David hesitated for a second, his icy-blue eyes boring down through mine with such intensity that his gaze seemed to peer down into my soul, before he answered. "Until this is over, you do _exactly_ what I tell you—no questions, no arguments. Okay?"

I bit down ferociously on my tongue, the pain enough to keep back the resounding 'no' that threatened to burst from my chest. I didn't want to make a promise that I couldn't keep (and I had already made my fair share of those since I 'left' home), but I also felt like I _had_ to say that I would do as David asked. The look in his eyes was nearing on frantic, like the fate of his world—and mind—hinged on whether I assured him I could do as I was told.

… Damn you and your eyes.

"David," I said slowly, trying to be as delicate as possible, "I can't ma—"

"—Felicia," David interrupted with a dark growl. I could tell he was seriously upset with me, but I also noticed how his voice cracked slightly around the edges revealing the anxiousness he was working so very hard to hide from me. David's eyes remained focused and cold despite the weakness which peeked through in his voice; it was as if he was mentally trying to will me into doing what he wanted.

Indecision gnawed at my innards with dull teeth, sending every square inch of my body aching. I didn't want to tie myself to such a broad promise: blindly following instructions was enough to get anyone into trouble— and lots of it. "David," I spluttered back, still dancing around giving him a concrete answer, "I don't want to make you a promise I can't keep."

"You said you trust me," he shot back simply, his words yanking on all of my heartstrings with one swift and violent tug. My resolve waned so quickly that I hardly had time to catch it before it completely melted away. "I promise won't make you do anything you don't want to," he continued, his words softening slightly by the end.

Blast and damn it all to hell, David!I hate it when you play around with me like this!

I searched David's face for a hint of a lie to fight against, something—_anything_—to give me a reason to keep resisting him. His eyes were frosty and alarmingly intense, but oddly tender beneath the severity of his determination to pry an acceptance out of me. There wasn't an iota of dishonesty in David's gaze, but I could see something there under the blatant truthfulness that I didn't like. Something about the way David was staring at me made me think I could see the cogs and wheels spinning frantically inside his head, as if he was scheming back-up plans for anything I might say in protest.

"Yeah," I began cautiously not wanting to mince my words, "I did, but—"

"—But what?" David asked quickly, cutting me off again. It was as if he didn't want me to talk, to hear the reasoning behind my own arguments. "You either trust me or you don't."

"I do trust you!" I said emphatically, beating back the twinge of unease that pricked at bottom of my stomach.

"Then do what I say," he said quickly, staring me down again. I instantly got the feeling that he was trying—and failing—to compel me to agree with him.

I furrowed my brow, still not ready to commit to a promise with such sweeping terms. If I said 'yes' without properly thinking things through, I was going to end up making a decision I regretted. Since I had already made my fair share of those in the past week and a bit, it seemed like high time I started playing things a little more on the cautious side—no matter how much David hated me for it.

"It just seems like kind of a big promise, David," I muttered, the words hurtful even to me. "I don't want to do something I'll regret."

David scoffed, the sound terse and brimming with acid and disgust. "So you lied to me before, then?" David said harshly, his gaze now twinged with the contempt of someone who had just been betrayed.

I wanted to cover my face with my hands to hide the self-loathing I instantly felt, but David refused to let go of my wrist. Instead, I glowered up at the tangled mess of branches above my head to vent my annoyance and unease. "No, David! I didn't lie to you. I meant what I said—"

"—Do what I say, then," David shot back urgently, now quite obviously playing the Devil's advocate.

You know, I really do hate how I let you use my own words and feelings against me like this. Can you say 'Got'cha now, sucker'?

"Fine," I hissed sharply before I could change my mind, "I'll be co-operative; no questions asked." Each word I spoke left a familiarly bad taste in my mouth; it was the bitter, bile-like taste of instant regret—a taste I knew far too well.

"Okay," David whispered back, the anger and tension in his voice dissipating with a small sigh. He also released the strangle-hold he had on my wrist; the absence of his grip made it immediately obvious _just_ how tightly he had been bonding me. "Follow me—quietly."

I smiled in acknowledgment, the gesture awkward and tight. It was taking a lot of effort to make it look like I was happy with the situation I had knowingly gotten myself into, and, to be honest, I wasn't doing a very good job of it. I could tell that David knew I was apprehensive and uncomfortable despite my efforts to appear cheery: I could see it in the way he carried himself. David's shoulders were tense and his posture stiff as he gracefully wove in and out of the tangled mess of branches that surrounded us, making a beeline towards a destination that was still a mystery to me.

It wasn't long before David slowed to a stop and motioned for me to come stand at his side. Without hesitation, even though my body was screaming at me to take off running in the opposite direction as if my very life depended on it, I obliged him, slinking near to him ever so quietly through the undergrowth. David didn't say anything immediately, so I took a second to look around and get my bearings.

We were tucked away behind a bank of large juniper trees that must have been, once upon a time, meticulously tended to. The smaller bushes, in which we were currently standing, had encroached upon the leafy fence, making a perfect blanket of camouflage to hide within. Beyond the trees was a large open area, covered in a sea of deep grass and small bushes that had dared to sneak away from their brothers. Fallen trees and piles of garbage poked through to the surface of the swaying green stalks here and there, making it obvious that someone (or, more rather, many someones) passed regularly through the area. The moon filtered freely down to the ground here, the blackness of the cypress tunnel a distant memory, interrupted only by the sparsely placed and ancient oak trees that reached like columns towards the stars. It was a very tranquil spot and seemed to be worlds away from the hustle and bustle of the world around it. I liked it instantly.

"What is this place?" I asked in hushed tones, unable to keep a hint of reverence from creeping into my tone. I suddenly felt as if I was standing at the edge of the grounds to Sandringham House or some equally prestigious estate.

I heard David laugh, the sound a mixture of bitterness and cheer at the same time. "Some rich bastard from the twenties built himself a house out here in the middle of nowhere," he explained, pointing to the crumbling goliath of a mansion that was looming in the distance. How I had missed it in the first place, I wasn't sure. "He murdered his two sons and then put a gun in his mouth—or so the story goes," David continued, his voice strangely cynical.

I examined the aged facade of the decaying building, my eyes zeroing in on the grey boards and sparse flecks of weathered white paint like binoculars. The large windows that lined the front of the home had their panes knocked our for the most part; the remaining glass was stained brown with dirt and rust from the tracery that stood skeleton in the towering frames. It was very colonial in appearance, as if the owner had fancied himself the master of a Louisiana sugar cane plantation (while he had been alive, that is). "Why didn't it get ripped down?" I mused, religiously keeping up the evening's theme of 'ask questions first, think about how stupid you sound later'.

"People thought the place was cursed or haunted or something stupid like that, so it was just left to rot," David shrugged, his voice slightly smug. "No one really knows it's here anymore."

"Oh," I muttered. David's explanation made sense in a silly, superstitious kind of way, but there wasn't much to say after that. I mean, how do you follow up after something like that? _'Yeah, I totally know what you mean. My aunt had a curse placed on her house a while ago; it was awful.'_

Yeah. Riiight.

I felt David turn slightly to look down on me, the weight of his gaze and smile pressing into the side of my head like a hot poker. Instantly, I felt the hairs bristle up along the back of my neck; I didn't have to wait for David to speak again to know that he was going to say something I didn't want to hear.

"The drifters and hobos like to stay here, though," he continued, a terse sense of satisfaction weaving in between the words that seemed to drip from his lips like audible honey. David was enjoying this sudden turn in the conversation a little too much for my liking. "They're easy pickings in small groups, but I hate it when there are more than five or six of them: it's like herding cats. Dirty, smelly, drunk cats."

"Oh," I said again, my thought process suddenly stuck like a computer program that had fallen into an in an infinite code loop.

"Luckily for you," David chuckled, taking far too much pleasure in my distress, "we picked a good night to drop in."

_Goodie_.

Thrown into a panic, I frantically began searching the estate grounds for the people I should have noticed earlier. My stomach dropped when, after a few seconds of methodical back-and-forth scanning, I saw the two perfectly still forms laying next to a dying fire, their disheveled hair and dirty clothes washed a muted but warm orange from the remaining embers. In a flash, the terms of my initial agreement with David—which felt like it had been made eons rather than an hour ago— came slamming back to the forefront of my mind like a wrecking ball.

We had come to this place, this tranquil, wonderful place, for a reason I had so mercilessly let slip from my mind. The excitement of having to catch up with David and the concentration it took to safely navigate the dark forest of cypress trees had distracted me, chasing away all of my earlier worries and concerns. Now that David had brought up the subject again, my mission—my reason for being here—became terrifyingly clear in my mind, sending dread racing through my system like ice.

I had to kill someone.

In an instant all the pain that I had been struggling to conceal back at the bluff came to force, consuming my body. Every muscle in my body seemed to combust, my bones seemed suddenly brittle under my own weight and my skin—right down to the roots of my hair—felt as if it was being lashed by barbed wire. I was desperately thirsty, too: my throat itched and throbbed as if someone had poured sand down it and drinking saltwater was my only available remedy. I knew these pains well and loathed what I knew I had to do to fix them.

"David," I whispered, my heart feeling like a cold, dead lump in my throat, "why didn't you tell me this was the plan?"

I felt David's gaze harden as he stared at me, his eyes boring into mine even though I refused to turn and look at him. "Because I knew you'd freak out," he growled, sniffing out my anxiousness like a trained hound.

"Who said I was freaking out?" I muttered, my voice harsh to hide the terrified noises that wanted to escape from my lungs. "I'm perfectly fine; I just want to… you know, _leave— _that's all."

"What happened to 'no arguments'?" David barked, his voice cracking around the edges with rage and frustration.

It was as if a knife had been thrust through my heart. "I told you I didn't want to make a promise I couldn't keep! If you had told me about _this_," I snapped, suddenly angry, pointing accusingly in the direction of my gaze, "I wouldn't have agreed—"

"You knew all along what the plan was," he growled. I could feel David tensing next to me, as if he was struggling not to reach out and shake me.

"Well," I muttered, my demeanour switching from angry back to frantic in an instant, "I've changed my mind about this whole thing, David."

"You promised me, Felicia!" David hissed back, absolutely livid now.

"And you promised you wouldn't make me do this," I spat, still frantic as the conflicting emotions in my chest finally collided together. Hunger, dread, lust, anger and anxiety exploded all at once, the overwhelming sensation enough to knock the air out of my chest. Panic rushed in to fill the gap as my resolve to fight my instincts began to collapse; I could feel myself preparing to hunt, my muscles coiling and uncoiling with barely contained power. My mind was racing at a hundred-thousand miles an hour, calculating distances and probabilities faster than any supercomputer on the face of the earth. I was slowly allowing myself (whether willingly or unconsciously, I have no idea) to morph into a honed, ruthless killing machine.

"Actually" he said curtly, his tone frosty and slightly cruel as he used my earlier words against me, "I said I wouldn't make you do anything you didn't _want_ to do. You want this, I can tell, so I'm making you do it whether you like it or not."

Trapped by semantics.

"I don't want this," I whispered back, fighting back the waves of pain and primal need that raced through my frame like electricity as I examined the two sleeping humans at the fire's side. They were both women, young—no more than my age—and very much alone. My eyes were drawn, like a magnet, to the smaller of the two, her slender frame covered with dirty, well-loved clothes. Bright red hair graced her head, the thin strands tangled artfully into a crown of dreadlocks. This woman was pale, like me, making it easy to see see her veins, pumping dark and blue, beneath the silky, thin layers of her skin even from far away . Every few seconds, her slender chest would rise and slowly fall, heavy with the long breaths of deep sleep. She was beautiful: her features were angular, and her lips thin. A light dusting of coppery freckles raced across her face, highlighting her perfect cheekbones. Thick, strawberry-blonde lashes graced her eyes which, I fantasized, were a rich hazel behind her eyelids which had turned lavender with slumber. Thin eyebrows arched, angular like the rest of her face, over her sleeping eyes, their posture relaxed with peaceful dreams.

I knew the instant I saw her, examining her features with a killer's eyes, that I wanted her. I wanted her so badly I could have screamed from the need that ignited throughout my body. Ever fibre of my being screamed for her blood, to feel the warmth of her life flowing through me. My bones ached to their cores to feel her weight in my arms; my hands shook to feel the soft tenderness of her skin beneath them. Standing in place, so far away from her, had quickly become torture: it took ever ounce of my dwindling will power to keep from running across the abandoned estate grounds to snatch her body up into the trap of my arms.

David laughed quietly, the sound triumphant and cold. "Don't lie," he crooned, his voice satin-smooth to coax me. "I can see it in your face: you can't wait to run over there and rip her throat out."

And for once I couldn't argue. David was right: it was hard, now that he had said it aloud, to stay put next to him in the shadows. I wanted more than anything to run, poised and silent, across the squatter's campground, sneak up to the woman with the red hair and quietly drain every last drop of life from her frame. I wanted to feel her pulse slowing beneath my fingertips, my lips, my hands, my body… I wanted to kill her.

I wanted to _kill_ her.

"I'll be right beside you, taking care of the Hispanic woman," David said calmly, as if to reassure me that I wouldn't be left alone.

But, suddenly, it didn't matter if David was there, sinning alongside me or not. My last realization had signaled the end of my mental battle with what I knew I needed and what I thought I wanted. Need had emerged the victor and, with it, so had my instincts. Like a virus, they completely overtook me, infecting me to the core. I now heard David as if he were a thought buzzing around at the back of my mind, his voice detached ever so slightly from reality. Nothing seemed to exist anymore outside of myself and the woman I wanted: all that mattered was feeding. I would slip across the clearing, silent as death, and take the redhead's life. Should the other sleeping human wake before I was finished feeding, I would snap her neck in retaliation; her death would be nothing more than collateral damage.

"Sure," I heard myself say, my voice eerily void of feeling. "Are you ready?"

"Whenever you are."

A small intake a breath, the tensing of muscles. Adrenaline pumped through my body like gasoline, fueling the need that raged within my chest to a frantic level. It was easy, then, to dart across the huge clearing, leaping soundlessly over mounds of decaying refuse and fallen trees. It was no challenge to slip in and out of the shadows, keeping from the light to make sure neither human would see me, the monster, coming. But it was easiest of all to reach down and snatch the slender redhead into my arms when I finally reached the dilapidated mansion, binding her warm, bird-like frame against my chest so she couldn't run. She barely had time to let out a gasp before I had sunk my fangs into her throat, slicing through her jugular and windpipe with the precision and keenness of a surgeon's scalpel.

Blood flowed instantly from the wound, washing over my tongue sweeter than life itself. Warmth raced down my throat, through my stomach and to each of my fingers and toes, the aftershock of energy that followed setting every inch of my skin tingling. I took in deep, measured breaths through my nose as I greedily sucked against the wound I had made in this human's neck, the unique perfume of her skin mixing exquisitely with the salty-sweet, metallic flavour of her blood. My heart seemed to sing within my chest as I continued to drain the body in my arms of life, to the point I thought that it might begin to beat again. But, all too soon, the flow of blood began to slow and, eventually, I was clutching desperately onto a lifeless, dry corpse—a useless shell of a body.

Reason slammed back into my brain with the force of a tank steamrolling along at full tilt when the blood ceased to flow. Disgust washed in, thick and heavy, directly in the wake of my dissipating exultation, filling my body to the brim with ice. Repulsed, I dropped the body in my arms at my feet, the realization of what I had just done coursing through me like a sickness.

"Oh," I whimpered, horrified, as I took a step backward from the pale, stiff corpse.

"Now _that_ was impressive," I heard David chuckle from my right, "I don't think I've ever seen you move so fast."

I looked over in his direction, my expression a mixture of revulsion and embarrassment. "Why didn't you _stop_ me?" I howled, not caring if anyone was around to hear. I doubted there was, because David was talking normally again.

"Because you didn't want to," he said simply, smirking like I was trying to be funny as he went about building the fire back up. I watched, frozen in place, as he picked up stray logs and other flammable refuse and piled it next to the dying embers.

I found my voice again when he started picking through the pockets of the second corpse—he had obviously killed tiny Spanish woman while I had been… _busy_. "David, what are you doing?" I snapped, angry that he was being so disrespectful.

Shaking his head with a smile, David laughed quietly to himself, the sound slicing through the heaviness of the atmosphere around us. I watched in disbelief as he proceeded to turn the body at his feet onto its front and meticulously scrounge through the pockets of her cargo pants. "I'm looking for a lighter, Felicia. You could help, you know— " here he pointed absently at the body which lay at my feet, motioning for me to pick her pockets "— instead of just standing there."

I cast a quick, stiff glance down to the body of the redheaded woman. Disgust shot through my like electricity, shaking me so violently that I too an involuntary half-step backwards. "I'm not a thief, thanks."

"It's not stealing if they're dead," David pointed out, speaking as if this should have been completely obvious to me. Standing up, defeated, when he couldn't find the object of his search, he turned to me, eying the ground (and the corpse) before me with a calculating stare. "It's not like they need it anymore."

"That's the worst thing I think I've ever heard you say," I drawled, shock heavily colouring my disbelief.

"Never claimed to be charming," he grinned impishly before eying the corpse I had made a second time.

I rolled my eyes, trying to keep myself distracted from the reality of what I had just done with conversation. "I never said you were," I countered, eliciting another cheeky half-smirk from David. Even though I knew it was hardly an appropriate time to swoon, I couldn't help my insides from turning to mush when our eyes met. David's eyes were sparking with life and energy, reflecting the moonlight like multifaceted prisms.

"Then don't be so upset," he laughed playfully, winking as he ran a gloved hand through his hair. Although I could smell the delicious fragrance of his hair from where I was, I stupidly (and quite inappropriately) found myself wishing I was standing closer to David so I could feel the full effect of his scent.

"Easy for you to say," I muttered as I tried to get a handle on my thoughts and feelings. Fluctuating so quickly between being violently repulsed and blindly enamoured was highly disorientating. I didn't like feeling everything at once and in such an overwhelming way. It was as if my emotions had no middle ground anymore—like I had suddenly developed bipolar disorder. I was completely manic.

"Are you going to look in her pockets, or am I?" David asked with a sly half-smirk, enjoying watching me work through my thoughts more than he should.

Reflexively, I glanced back down at 'my' corpse and had to fight back a hollow wave of nausea. "You are," I scoffed, raising my hands as if to say I had washed myself of the duty.

It was David's turn to roll his eyes as he casually sauntered over to me, stopping directly beside the redhead's lifeless body. "You're going to have to get rid of this, you know," he said dryly, pointing to the body at his feet. "I'm not your maid."

"But you'd look so cute in one of those little black dresses," I teased, trying to distract myself again.

"I'm serious, Felicia," David growled flatly, flicking that invisible switch on his emotions.

"Hm," I muttered, the sound entirely noncommittal. Fluctuating from playful to nervous (again), I shoved my hands into my pockets just as David bent down to continue his search for a lighter. It was impossible to keep myself from groaning when I reflexively wrapped my right hand around the heirloom I always carried with me.

"What?" David asked, once again nonchalant as he ferreted through the redhead's belongings.

I sighed, annoyed with myself, as I walked around David and towards the dying fire, pulling out my father's silver lighter as I went. "You can stop looking," I muttered, kneeling down and snatching up the longest, driest twig I could find. I flipped the lighter's cap open and ignited the tiny flame with one fluid flick of my wrist, holding it under the end of my make-shift taper. Once it was lit, I piled some small kindling onto the fading embers and transferred the tiny flame to the pit.

"Thanks for saving me a bunch of trouble," David stage whispered sarcastically from the other side of the fire. I had been so focused on tending to the fire that I hadn't noticed him flit over to me.

He was wearing his customary half-smirk when I glared up at him before continuing to bring the fire back to life. "I'm sorry," I said, a little too snippy as I placed some of the larger pieces of wood onto the growing flames, "I had a lot on my mind. What I have in my pockets was the last thing I was thinking about."

"Can I see that lighter?" He asked suddenly, completely ignoring my jab.

Scoping the tiny piece of glinting silver up from the ground where I had left it to free my second hand, I tossed it to David without looking. I prayed it would hit him in the face, but I knew (sadly) my hopes were high; David was too quick: I heard his hands close gently and easily around the tiny silver missile.

"Who did you say gave this to you?" He asked slowly, deep in thought. When I looked up at him through the growing flames, David was scrutinizing the delicate, swirling engravings, no doubt taking notice of the places that I had rubbed smooth from worrying it with my thumb.

"My dad," I said, unable to keep my voice from becoming tender with memories as I went back to tending the flames. "I told you this a while ago, remember?"

"Now I do, yeah," he answered absently. I glanced up quickly when I heard David's coat rustle, looking at him just in time to see the priceless artifact in question slip into the depths of one of his duster pockets.

"Uh, what do you think you're doing?" I barked, jumping to my feet. "Give that back!"

David smiled at me, seemingly happy to be caught in the act. I didn't like the maniacal gleam in his eyes. "When you take care of your mess, sure," he said cheekily, his tiny smile twisting into a self-satisfied sneer when I bared my teeth at him.

"No. _Now_," I hissed, taking my turn to be livid.

"Nah, I don't think so. G et rid of that," he said, gesturing pointedly to the greying corpse of the redheaded woman, "and you can have your lighter back."

I followed his finger, suppressing a violent shudder when I saw the body of my victim. At all costs, I didn't want to have to go back to that body, to have to remember all of the horrific things I had thought about her before I took her life. "David, I swear," I growled, burying my revulsion below my anger to deal with it later, "I'll rip you apart to find that lighter if you don't give it back to me this instant."

David paused, stroking his chin mockingly as if he was actually taking the time to consider all of his options. "Or," he said slowly, an arrogant grin spreading slowly over his perfect face, "you could just do what I tell you to—just like you promised." He knew he had me trapped by my own words, by a promise I had made too hastily and without really thinking. I hated how much he was loving seeing me squirm.

"Give it back to me," I barked, venom dripping from my lips.

"Get rid of the body," David smiled, enjoying my anger more than he should have.

My anger surged and bubbled inside my chest, threatening to break through to the surface at any second. Instead of reacting, I stood silently, choking back the illogical response that David's smugness inspired in me. It would have been so easy to just run over to him, hands outstretched like hawk's talons, and try to take back my lighter from him, but I didn't want to give David the satisfaction of seeing me act like an animal… for a second time.

Left with few options, I glanced over my shoulder to the corpse of the redheaded woman I had killed. Her skin was pallid and greyish and her limbs looks frail and broken under the baggy folds of her dirty clothes. The long locks of her flaming hair obscured her face and neck—the site of my attack—almost as if someone had taken a small blanket and draped it over her. Everything about her thin body looked fragile; I feared that, if I touched her, she might disintegrate.

"You have to get rid of her, Felicia," David said coolly, his voice an interruption to my tepid thoughts. Instantly, I was acutely aware of his presence—watching me stare at the body. It was embarrassing.

I looked back to him, all traces of my anger from only moments ago gone completely. David's expression was dark and unfeeling, offering no escape from his demands. Nervous and defeated, I panned my gaze back to the corpse I had created and tried to rationalize what I was going to do. I would walk over, pick up the body, go back to the fire, place her in the flames and be done with it. It would be quick and it would be easy. This was a mess I had made and I now had to deal with it. There was no other option.

Balling up what little courage and pride I had left, I walked towards the body. My pace was determined at first, but quickly deteriorated into a quiet tip-toe as I neared closer and closer to the corpse's side. Once near her, the stench of new death filled my nostrils. I could smell the wound I had made on her neck, the exposed flesh reacting with the open air in ways that human senses would never be able to detect. What had once smelled so beautifully sweet now was repulsive to me, the hints of decay burning in my nostrils like napalm. This smell brought with it a renewed revulsion that coursed through me now down to my core, as if my body was warning me not to get near the dead. It would have been easy to leave her there, but I knew I couldn't. David was expecting me to finish what I had started and I didn't want him to have the pleasure of seeing me crumble. Burying my disgust deep down next to my fear, I hesitantly reached out for the redhead and gently scooped her thin, dead frame up into my arms.

Having never held a corpse before, I was surprised at just how _heavy_ one really was. You hear people talking about 'carrying deadweight' all the time, but I don't think that they really know what it's like to carry a _dead body_. Immediately after picking the corpse up, I struggled to get a good hold: the way I had picked the corpse up was uncomfortable and awkward. I could feel the body slipping out of my grasp like a wet stone and the very last thing I wanted was to drop her—especially in front of David. I shuddered whenever the corpse's frigid, rubbery skin brushed against my forearms, instantly sickened by the thought that, only moments ago, that skin was warm and inviting to me.

Once I was sure that the corpse wasn't going to fall from my arms, I started carrying it towards the fire. It wasn't hard to support the weight—I was strong enough—but it was very disturbing. It was as if I was carrying an over-sized, sleeping infant in my arms, her feet and legs bumping against my thighs with each step I took. I could feel her head, pulled backwards by the weight of her hair, lolling against my arm, her neck rolling back and forth across my skin more easily than it should have. More eager now than ever to rid myself of this new albatross, I power-walked the last few feet towards the fire and, without hesitation, easily tossed the corpse into the flames.

I didn't stick around to see what would happen next.

It took everything I had not to take off running across the estate grounds. As calmly as I could, I ghosted around on David and the impromptu funeral pyre and put them all behind me. Weaving around the small bushes and other plants that had encroached on what I imagined was once once a pristine lawn, I walked over to the base of one of the towering oak trees that dotted the open field. Skimming my hand over the ancient, twisting trunk, I found a flat place to sit beneath the gently rustling bows and plunked my body down on the cool grass. Letting out a long, shuddering breath, I looked out towards the bank of junipers that acted as guardians along the estate's perimeter and tried to make my mind go blank. But the images of the redheaded woman, of her frail corpse, wouldn't leave me be. They stuck obstinately behind my eyelids, flashing into view each time I would blink in a hell-sent montage that made my body writhe with guilt.

"I said you could have it back," David said, his voice slicing through the suffocating shroud of my emotions like a knife. When I looked up, entirely shocked to see him standing there, David was holding out my father's lighter to me in the palm of his hand. The silver case shone against the black leather of his glove, glinting differently as the branches above our heads shifted in the evening breeze.

I reached out gingerly, taking the cold metal into the safety of my fingers. "You did," I conceded before I flashed him an apologetic glance. "Thanks."

"Mind if I sit?" David asked after gently clearing his throat, his voice rough with emotion beneath the mask of indifference he was trying to hide behind.

When I looked back up at David after taking a second to calm myself by examining the familiar surface of my heirloom, I could see that his eyes were hard with pain that I wasn't supposed to notice. This set my heart breaking with fresh hurt, the sorrow mixing beautifully in with my guilt. "No, go ahead," I whispered, looking back out across the field.

David's wool duster and leather jacket rustled gently as he bent down to sit beside me on the grass between the roots of the oak tree. He sighed heavily after he settled in against the strong tree trunk, as if he were an old man who had just found time to take a nap in his favourite chair. He was close enough to touch me, our hands fractions of an inch apart against the damp earth, but I didn't reach out to close the gap. I wasn't sure if he was still angry at me—I would understand if he was; I would be. It seemed better not to intentionally make things worse by doing something that could be misconstrued.

We sat in silence for minutes on end, the abandoned estate grounds silent like a graveyard. The only sound was the breeze, snaking and whispering through the countless trees, speaking secrets in a hushed language that neither David nor I could understand. I twisted my lighter absently between my fingers as I listened to the stillness, waiting for David to speak. I could feel him trying to relax next to me: he was tense with an emotion that I couldn't place and his unsettled state seemed to radiate off of him in tiny waves. I wanted to ask what was bothering him, but again thought better of it just as I parted my lips.

"This would be a lot easier for you if you stopped thinking of yourself as a human, you know," David suggested after a while, his voice calm and thoughtful as if he had been considering what he wanted to say all this time. I looked over at him to find him looking directly back, his eyes burning like little blue flames. He was wearing that mask of ancient emotions that never ceased to spear me to the floor, the weathered expression speaking silent volumes about the truth of his age. My heart instantly began to bleed for the pain I had caused him.

I spluttered a few unintelligible sentence fragments before sighing heavily and regrouping my thoughts. "I'm just so confused, David," I began, my words spilling out in a torrent once I decided what, exactly, I wanted to say, "I want things that I shouldn't want, I think things I shouldn't think, and yet… it feels _good_ to want and think those things. My body feels like it's constantly at war with my head and it's making my want to rip my hair out! I know what I need to be happy and function, but I just can't take what it's doing to my soul. It's like I'm being pulled in two directions at the same time and I don't know how to reconcile the two.

I'm scared of myself, the things I want, and the things I know I'm capable of doing. I want to be okay with all of this, but, every time I turn around, it seems to get harder," I concluded, burying my face in one hand. I suddenly felt weary and old, like how a well-loved book must feel after it's owner pulls it out for yet another read.

The muted, pained groan David gave in response only made me feel worse, like I shouldn't have told him how I felt. My words had hurt him. "No one thinks any less of you," he murmured, unconsciously inching closer to me. I couldn't help but sigh when I felt the familiar texture of David's glove connect with the hand I still had planted against the ground.

"I know you don't, and I know Paul, Marko and Dwayne don't," I muttered, showing my face to David again, "but—"

"—'But' what?" He interrupted with a sincere smile—the kind I only got to see when we were alone together. "Who matters other than the boys and I? We're your friends; we have your back no matter what you do—or who you kill," he tacked on playfully, trying to lighten my mood.

It worked. Sort of.

I hung my head slightly to hide the tiny smile that lighted my lips. "I'd tell you who, but it sounds so stupid just to think it," I breathed, talking to my feet.

"So nothing out of the ordinary for you," David teased, bumping his shoulder into mine like I always did to him when I was kidding around. I could feel the smirk he was wearing as he looked at the side of my head, examining my face.

"Ha ha, very clever," I tried to grumble flatly despite my smile. It didn't really work out too well: even I could hear the hint of laughter woven into my words. I looked back at David when I heart him cough a laugh, though I got the feeling he was laughing at me rather than at my sarcasm.

"As always," he winked back. My sorrow crumbled a little more when he flashed me one of his signature half-smirk-half-smiles—the kind that touched his eyes and made them dance like gems.

He was so beautiful.

I scoffed a small laugh, falling easily back into our casual back-and-forth banter even though I was still feeling mopey. "'Always' is kind of a strong word; I would say to use 'sometimes' instead, but even that's pushing things a little far."

"Please," David scoffed, rolling his eyes incredulously.

"Well, someone has to be brutally honest with you. Dwayne, Paul and Marko won't do it, so it falls to me," I shrugged matter-of-factly.

David snickered, the sound sending little shivers running up and down my spine. "You make that sound like an impossible task."

"Some days it is, yeah," I said with a mockingly heavy sigh to hide my smile.

We fell silent for a moment, looking away from each other and back out towards the bank of junipers that stood as strong, silent sentinels against the outside world. I listened intently to the familiar sound of David breathing beside me, the pleasant drone of the steady in-out rhythm keeping the darkest of my thoughts at bay. Content for the moment, I leaned my head against David's shoulder without thinking about it.

"Comfortable?" He asked quietly. I could feel his eyes atop my head, though his gaze wasn't unkind.

"Mmm," I sighed in acknowledgment, nestling perfectly into my niche against David's strong body. With each measured breath I took, the musky-sweet scent of David's hair and skin swirled around in my nose, mixing in pleasantly with the familiar fragrances of wool and leather that I also associated with him. The resulting perfume was highly intoxicating and I would have been happy to sit there forever, reveling in each layer of the unique smell.

A few minutes passed in comfortable silence before David spoke again. "You never finished your thought, you know," he pointed out softly, not letting the heart of our conversation be dismissed. He flashed me a knowing smile when I turned my head upwards to meet his eyes with the smallest of glares.

I hesitated before answering, quietly letting my earlier sadness bulldoze over the shard of happiness that David had placed in my chest. Just thinking of the statement I was about to make was enough to make me want to cry. "It's my dad," I said thickly, looking away when I felt my face begin to crumple under the weight of the emotions that were surging uncontrollably through me. "I keep thinking of what he would think and say and do if he saw me like this."

"And?" David asked simply, his voice even and void of any judgment.

"He would hate me," I breathed, my voice barely audible, before I hid my face in the folds of David's coat. The feel of wool against my face was comforting and I would have been happy to stay there, hidden from David's piercing gaze, forever.

"Look at me," David instructed, his voice coloured with a small chuckle.

"No," I defiantly told his shoulder.

"Felicia," David said again as if he was indulging an obstinate child (… which he was). When I continued to keep my head down, I heard him sigh and felt him gently shake his head. "Look at me," David said again as he slipped a gloved finger under my chin, easily turning my face back up towards his.

I tried to resist, but only halfheartedly. The truth was, there was a small part of me that wanted to look at him. I wanted to see the unguarded emotions David always revealed to me when we were alone and in deep conversation like this. It was times like these, however few and far between they were, that I felt as if David was allowing me to see who he really was. I didn't want to miss a moment of being witness to his thoughtful side; it was a refreshing change from the man he was forced to play for the benefit of his friends. I hadn't seen him act like this, so obviously open, in what felt like ages.

Once forced to meet David's gaze, I was absolutely powerless to rip my eyes from his: the laughter and wonder in his eyes was confusing and spellbinding at the same time. My pride screamed at me to look away, but something in my heart held my body steadfast. David's eyes were bright and alive, their pale blue cores dancing with fire behind a thin veneer of ice. I could feel butterflies springing to life inside my chest, their wings tickling the bottom of my stomach and the edges of my heart.

"Please," I sighed in embarrassment, the plea without direction or any real weight behind it. My thoughts had put no pause to our exchange, but I felt silly for letting my mind fall back into the throws of my schoolyard crush. Those annoying little bugs seemed to quadruple in number as I watched, helpless, as David fought to hide yet another grin. The gesture wasn't mocking or insensitive, but I appreciated his attempt to remain serious nonetheless. Eventually, after several failed attempts, David gave up and let his smile bloom across his perfect lips. I couldn't help but notice, hopelessly, how it touched his eyes in the most miraculous way.

"That's it?" David chuckled, his voice touched with the strangest sense of relief. I couldn't help but notice how his eyes danced with suppressed admiration and amazement, as if he were trying to hide the fact I had just unintentionally exposed some earth-shattering secret to him. "_That's_ what's been bugging you?"

"Yeah," I admitted, shamefaced to have exposed my inner workings so blatantly. I tried to look away and hide my face again, but it was as if David's finger was a meat hook under my chin, keeping me pinned in place.

"You're the strangest person I've ever met," he whispered, more to himself than to me. I watched as his eyes darted around my face, taking in every square inch as if he was seeing me for the very first time.

… I could say the same about you, you know.

I waited, quietly, as David took in my features, focusing on how his smile slowly relaxed into a reserved half-smirk as the seconds passed. I noticed, too, how his eyes seemed to freeze around the edges, creating a partition between the tumult of his thoughts and myself. I wondered for a moment what was going on inside his head but quickly thought better than to dwell on it. If David was making the effort to keep his thoughts from appearing on his face, I probably didn't want to know what they were to begin with.

"Then I fit right in with your lot, don't I?" I asked in response to David's musings, the butterflies that were caged in my ribs at war with the embarrassment that burned invisible beneath my skin.

David's eyes found mine again in an instant, their cores still cold. "You shouldn't let your father's memory control you," he muttered, ignoring my attempt to change the topic of conversation. Frost bit heavily at the edges of David's words despite his even tone, making me feel as if I had annoyed him somehow.

"It doesn't," I hissed, offended. I struggled again to pull David's hand out from under my chin and to move away from him, but he wouldn't let me leave. The butterflies battered against my insides completely disregarding my anger, their wings like tiny baseball bats leaving bruises on my flesh.

A heavy frown stormed on David's perfect brow, making his eyes chill over completely. "Tell me why you make yourself suffer, then?" He growled, his mood shifting like quicksilver.

"Maybe I like it," I said acridly, glaring back at him.

"Liar," David snapped, his eyes flashing murderously.

"You're one to talk," I seethed. Yet another attempt to struggle free got me nowhere but yanked slightly closer to David.

… Talk about counter-intuitive.

"This isn't about me," David barked.

"Maybe it should be," I yowled back, now equally as furious as David.

"Stop trying to change the topic!"

"Why not? It's none of your damn buis—"

"—Tell me the truth, Felicia!" David roared, overpowering my voice with his.

"Fine!" I howled, finally finding the strength to pull free of David's hold on my face. Pulling sharply away, I gave David the blackest glare I could muster. "His memory is the only thing keeping a shred of me human!" I fumed, the truth bursting out from my lips like a venom-soaked dagger.

Silence fell between us in a blanket so thick I was instantly suffocating beneath its weight. Desperate to get out of the emotionally charged space beneath the boughs of the oak tree, I scrambled to my feet and walked out into the open not caring if David wanted me to leave or not. Stopping once I was out under the glow of the moon, I folded my arms tersely across my chest and glared up at the stars. I counted the tiny glowing specs, stopping only to trace out familiar constellations when my eyes inadvertently stumbled across them.

I had reached upwards of eighty stars and ten constellations when I finally heard David move again.

I tried to keep my count going, but I kept getting stuck on the same three planetary diamonds as I listened to David approach me, his gait confident and unrepentant—and oh-so typically 'David'. The tense atmosphere from under the tree followed him, swiftly filling the space between us when David stopped at my side. Peering at him out of the corner of my eye, I saw that he was staring darkly across the grounds at the crumbling mansion. His hands were folded tightly over his chest, the muscles of his arms making the sleeves of his coats pull ever so slightly. Chastising myself for being so common, I looked away and back up to the sky to resume my repetitious counting of the same five stars from moments ago.

Good bye, Concentration. O, how I barely knew thee!

"You have to let your old life go," David said suddenly, his voice heavy as if he was reliving a very painful memory within the vault of his mind.

I held back the initial snippy response that budded on my tongue, taking a few deep breaths to calm my flaring temper. David was trying to be civil, so I need to act that way too; there was no reason to act childishly… yet. "What if that's all I have left? My old hopes, my old dreams… my memories," I asked, trying to keep my voice amicable.

"That's not all you have," he scoffed, the sound dead and cold with countless layers of hurt.

"What do I have, then?" I fired back harshly, my temper rearing its head as David's words sparked pain of my own. I hurt to hear him sound so distant and upset, but I was also sad to think of truly letting go of my old perceptions of how the world worked.

Up until now, I had been comparing everything that happened to me and everything I did to what my _old_ life had been like. Memories of the friends I would never see again, time I had spent on school and hobbies that I would never get back, and family I had cherished so dearly and hated so stupidly ruled everything I did. All of those things were what had guided my decisions and my actions, my thoughts and my feelings. I did everything in accordance to what my _old_ self would have done or been expected to do. The truth was, though, that David was right: none of those things really mattered any more. I had, however unwillingly and unwittingly, embarked on a completely new life—a new life that was far removed from all of the restrictions and rules that had governed my old life and my old self. Perhaps that was why I was so frightened to let everything I was comfortable with go, though: I really had no idea who or what I had to structure my new life. Everything was still very much up in the air when it came to my future, both the immediate and the very distant. So, obstinate and afraid, I clung to those old perceptions and rules even though I knew in my heart of hearts that they couldn't and would never apply to my life again.

"I told you," David chuckled ruefully, "you have me." I could feel him turn his gaze to me, his eyes boring into mine even though I refused to look at him. My realizations had shaken me to my very core and, even though I tried to fight them, tears pricked like hot needles in my eyes, threatening to spill down my cheeks at any moment.

"What if you leave?" I whispered thickly, my throat tight with a sudden, sweeping wave of sadness.

"I won't," David murmured, his voice burning fiercely with sincerity.

Without thinking I looked over at him, the intensity of his reply having caught me off guard. Fires were burning brightly behind the icy blue pools of David's eyes, the strength of his emotions and conviction visible there for me to see. He was so sincere, so sure; I couldn't help but believe him. "Do you promise?" I breathed, trusting him more blindly and deeply in that instant than I ever had before.

"I promise," David swore, his voice smoldering with happiness and truth. The extent of his joy, which he kept artfully hidden behind an easy smile, made his eyes glow more brightly than ever before.

We gazed at each other for a long moment, each taking in the mystery of the other as if we were staring at a masterpiece. As I looked up at David, the world seemed to fall away around me, the sheer perfection of its silence making it ever easier to become lost in the magnificent planes of his face. I was perfectly content to gaze at David from afar, letting my eyes wander over the perfection of his cheekbones, the strong cut of his chin and the smoothness of his brow, until my eyes landed upon David's lips. In that instant my butterfly companions returned, their tiny wings beating so fiercely within my chest that I thought I might explode. Flustered, I took in a deep shuddering breath—which was probably the worst thing I could have done. David's intoxicating scent whistled down into my lungs, clouding my head and sending me reeling. Unsure of what to do, I ripped my eyes from the satin-smooth curves of David's mouth and found his gaze again.

Another mistake.

David's eyes were warm and intense, his irises glinting like backlit diamonds in the full force of the moonlight. Standing, frozen, I heard my breath catch in my chest and felt the strange sensation of a vampire's blush burning invisible behind my cheeks when David stepped towards me, closing the miniscule gap that existed between us. That fear was obliterated, though, when I felt his arms wrap slowly and tenderly around my waist, pulling me ever tighter to David's exquisitely carved body. Fire seemed to explode inside me the second my tiny frame melded against his, burning away the uneasy butterflies that had made a roost under the pit of my stomach. Desire smoldered brightly in the void they left behind, giving me the confidence to reach up and run my fingers along those features I had so often idolized from a distance.

The stubble on David's jaw tickled pleasantly beneath my fingertips, the sensation racing throughout my entire body like a series of little electric shocks. Spurred on for more, I delicately let my hands wander upwards towards David's hair. Eager to experience the texture I had delighted in what felt like so long ago, I gently ran my fingers through David's platinum locks. I had to hold back a content sigh as the cashmere and pony hair texture from my memories drifted beneath my skin. Waves of the smell of his hair wafted down to my nose, the woody, spicy-sweet scent making the fire in my chest burn ever brighter.

"You're trembling," David whispered, his voice husky and soft as he lowered his head towards mine.

"Am I?" I murmured, our conversation echoing the one we had the first time we had been so close. Taking in another shuddering breath when David's nose brushed mine, I tried to calm myself but it did no good. It was all too easy to turn my head and nestle my lips gently against David's, again and again, and put the need that had been growing inside of me since the first time we kissed to rest.

I couldn't help but think, as David passionately returned my feverish kisses, that he felt that way, too.


	20. Chapter 20

**___Author's Notes:_**

___Sorry for the long wait, everyone!_

___I'm going to keep this short and sweet, but I really do want to apologize for how long it's taken me to get this chapter online. School has been a nightmare this semester and I've had no time for anything remotely close to fun. That being said, I've ____finally____ managed to get Chapter 20 edited and ready to go! It's a 'good-er' if I do say so myself, and I really hope that you all enjoy it._

___A continued and many thanks to all of my readers; you are one of the many reasons I love to write and without all of you I would have no reason at all to continue working on this story. At this point in time, I would also like to take this opportunity to make a special 'thank you' to ____**SunlitMercy**____ for the help they gave me in sorting out an issue of plagiarism concerning ____Second Chance____. Another user (who I will not name as this issue has been resolved in a peaceful and satisfactory manner) took the liberty of, essentially, copy-pasting my work into his/her own story and calling it their own. I cannot express ardently enough how much I ____**hate**____ plagiarism. Authors, such as myself, put a lot of blood, sweat, soul and creative energy into working on our stories. So, please: if you love someone's story, feel free to use it as a muse/inspiration to write your own work, but ____**DON'T**____**COPY IT AND TRY TO CLAIM IT AS SOMETHING ORIGINAL**____. It's an insult to both your intelligence as a person and the hardworking authors you are stealing from._

___So, with the end of that rant: I present to all of you Chapter 20 of ____Second Chance____. _

___Enjoy!_

___Sincerely,_

___Amaryllidinae__  
_

* * *

**Twenty**

I'VE COME TO LEARN something important since stumbling blindly into Santa Carla: freedom is something most people take for granted. Until it's either been restricted or taken away completely, no one seems to realize just how lucky we are—as Canadians, Americans, or… country-less people such as myself—to be able to go where we want, with (or without) who we want, when we want. Before I met David and the boys, I'll admit I didn't understand just how lucky I was to be 'free'. I didn't spare a second to think about the hard-won privileges I was taking advantage of when I decided to go for a walk, or go for a spin on my motorcycle, or drive out to the mountains on a whim. I was too concerned with making myself happy to even begin to think about it. I know now, though, that being free to make your own decisions—not to mention the freedom to make your own mistakes—without having to get permission is a monumental liberty that shouldn't be taken lightly. Tragically—and, please, excuse my melodramatics: I've been dying to get this off of my chest for ages—I literally had to have the freedom to spend time on my own taken away to realize this myself.

It's stifling to have company everywhere you go, regardless of whether you want it or not. I thought, when I arrived in Santa Carla, that I was going to be doomed to a life without friends, without anyone to talk to. I thought that I would be completely and utterly alone for the rest of my days, unable to really get to know anyone for fear of them finding out my secrets. But, since I was amalgamated into David's merry band of ruffians, I've found myself wishing (more often than not) for just that—to be _alone_. I hate the feeling of always having someone around me to watch and scrutinize everything I do, waiting for opportunities to mock me or push the limits of my temper. It's as if the cure to my fear—the fear of being alone—has become a shackle and weight around my ankle, pinning me in place at the centre of a crowded room. I constantly have to watch what I say and how I say it; what I do, and how I do it. My life has become a farce, directed by the fickle opinions of four boys—three of whom are as immature as third-graders.

That being said, I want to make one thing perfectly clear: I don't detest my new friends. I enjoy being around Marko and Paul to watch them squabble with each other, and I even appreciate (more often that not in a 'I kinda-sorta want to donkey-punch you in the throat' way) Dwayne's company. And David—well, I don't think it's a big secret what I think about David. To be honest, I don't know what I would do without all of them—yes, that even means Dwayne. However, what I _do _detest is having every second of my life tied to what I do as a 'group' with my aforementioned friends. It's as if I've taken a weird backwards leap into a universe that's run as a Borg collective. My decisions are made for me, leaving nothing up to chance. When given a command, I do it—not because I want to, but because that's what's… _expected _of me.

I never used to allow people to control me like this: my hopes and dreams were the guiding force in my life, not the thoughts and wills of others. For example: I decided to go to school to become a doctor (like my father), even though Roland told me he would throw me out if I didn't become a lawyer (like him). Of course, that never happened—Roland's threats were always empty—but I never once allowed him the opportunity to think that he ever had a hand in my life. Call me pigheaded, but it's served me well for the most part. My father said it was always important to have a backbone, to be able to stand up for yourself and what you believed in. It's strange, now, to find myself bending so frequently to the wills of other people—or, more specifically, David's will. It took a lot of consideration (I quite literally think about it constantly while stuck in the stupor daytime causes), but I'm positive that's why his offer to me—one human life in exchange for one night of freedom—was so appealing. The chance to have a night where what I did (or didn't) do was entirely up to me was worth, in my mind, anything. Every night for almost two weeks, David had basically planned my life out for me. _He_ decided where I went. _He_ decided when I fed. _He_ decided whom I could talk to. So, naturally, David knew I would lower my self to whatever level of baseness he wanted (especially after the minor scene I had caused) to have my own way—even if it was only for a night.

So, it's really needless to say that the instant the paralysis of the day lifted from my limbs, I wasted no time before leaving.

The second I felt back in control of all of my appendages, I put them to use. Quickly rolling out of my niche, I gracefully fell into the open air and easily caught myself before I landed on the boys. For the second night in a row, I hadn't been able to bring myself to sleep hanging, upside down, with the others; it was still too much for me to handle. So, much to David's displeasure, I had crawled into the tiny bit of space I had carved out for myself amongst the boys and let sleep overtake me. To fill the daylight hours, I had mulled over the choices I had made not hours before, endlessly trying to decide how I would let them effect me. I debated endlessly over things like whether I was still a good person, whether I was damned for doing what was in my new nature, and whether David would think more or less of me for letting my morals go. By the time light turned back to dark, I still hadn't completely made up my mind, but I fancied myself slightly closer to figuring out what I really thought about the whole 'Congratulations, You're A Vampire' _thing_.

So, to say the least, it wasn't much of a step forward, but it wasn't quite a whole step back.

I took a second (out of unnecessary habit) as I hovered, fifteen or so feet above the ground, to run my fingers through my hair. As I floated, searching for knots and tangles I would never find, my eyes fell on David's resting figure. He seemed so peaceful as he swayed, ever so gently, before me, his face unburdened by all of the things that plagued him during his waking hours. No frown or scowl lines darkened his perfect brow, no unhappy curve marred his beautiful lips. He looked so young and innocent—like a child. Instantly, I wanted to run my hand along his strong jawline, like I had done the night before beneath the stars. I wanted to feel the face that had so passionately loved me so shortly ago, free of tension, of worry, of reservation. I wanted to kiss him again, to feel his lips yield ever so softly beneath mine. I wanted to love him.

Memories of the time I had spent with David the night before flooded my system, making me burn deep and hot with a vampire's blush. After feeding, we had spent the rest of the night together, alone, in the sprawling grounds of the hidden drifter's retreat. We had spent most of our time looking up at the stars and talking, letting the conversation drift into silence (and feverishly passionate embraces) when we ran out of things to say. It had been so wonderful to see David like that—with his walls down ever so slightly. We talked of the things we liked and hated, the people we knew and wished we didn't, and countless other things. It was as if I was meeting him for the very first time without the shield that Paul, Marco and Dwayne provided him to hide behind. I had seen another fleeting glimpse of the David I really wanted to know and to love: the David who wanted to make me laugh, to see me smile.

I knew as we had returned to the bluff that the understanding and feelings that had blossomed between David and I wouldn't last beyond the time we had stolen to be together. With the others in sight, he would go back to hiding the tender side of his personality that he had shown me, revealing the sarcastic, mercurial and guarded man he was to the rest of the world. And there I would be, left with the weight of reconciling between the two, reading the hidden meaning in his glances, in his teasing. I would have to deal with the frustration of knowing there was more to him than the façade he put on. I would have to resist the desire to touch him, to taste him, waiting for those few-and-far-between moments when I could wrap my arms around David and hold him close.

Shaking away my melancholy reflections, I drifted away from David and the rest of the boys, confident nothing I could do would wake them. I seemed to be the only one who could rise before the sun was completely set (… _boys_), so there was no doubt in my mind that none of them were even aware I was moving. Shoving away the heaviness that now hovered around the cold lump of a heart in my chest, I shot out of our hidden handkerchief-sized crypt like a rocket, not slowing down or stopping until I had reached the bluff top.

The sun had only just set once my feet touched back down on the sandy earth: I could still see traces of pink, orange and yellow burning on the bottoms of the clouds to the west. My eyes stung slightly from the remaining light and my skin burned uncomfortably, but it wasn't something I couldn't handle. Even though I also felt tired enough to sleep, it was tremendously exhilarating to be standing on my own again. For the first time in what felt like years, I was under no obligation to wait for anyone and it filled me with boundless excitement. So much excitement, in fact, I had no idea exactly what I was going to do with it.

I stood on the bluff top for a long time, pretending to watch the sun set over the ocean as I decided what to do with my 'hall pass'. The suggestions I had made to David the night before buzzed around at the back of my head like flies, pestering me with their sudden blandness. The night previous, I had been exhausted from want of… _food_, so my ideas for a perfect evening alone made sense. Now that I was quite literally buzzing with get-up-and-go, I couldn't begin to think about making myself lie still to rest and think. I needed to do something fun, something exciting—something I would have done before I got caught up in all this strangeness. I needed to do something that _I_ wanted to do.

My fingers twitched with frustration and anticipation as hundreds of new ideas and plans flashed through my head, none of them ever quite good enough to satisfy the boundless energy that was tingling in my chest. It felt as if I was struggling to figure out a puzzle I already knew the answer to, but couldn't get it to leap off of the tip of my tongue. Angry, I cast my eyes upwards to the sky as if it was the sea that had affronted me. The stars were beginning to show even though a sliver of the sun still burned on the horizon, their tiny pinpricks of light poking through the thin veneer of clouds that ghosted over the endless sky. It was going to be a beautiful, clear night—but I didn't want to stick around and watch it pass me by.

A heavy sigh rushed over the tight barrier of my lips which had turned, at some point, into a hard downward curve. I was wasting time standing here; I wanted to get moving. The boys would surely be awake soon and I didn't want to have them find me, mulling over my own indecisiveness. Just the thought of what David would say if he saw me standing here like a statue made my skin burn invisibly with embarrassment. Wracking my brain with renewed vigour, I struggled to place my finger on the illusive solution to my current plan-less predicament. I glared back down at the whitecaps that rolled in the distance, watching the sea curl and foam on itself to help myself concentrate.

That was when, as if on cue, _it_ started for the third time in as many days.

_… Felicia_.

The familiar, plain yet sultry voice whispered to me like a false prophet at first, the soft echos of my name coating my mind like a honey potion that slowed my thoughts. I tried, futilely, to continue to concentrate on coming up with a plan of action for my free evening, but I couldn't focus for long. Every time I would start to weave a thread of a sufficient solution the voice would interrupt, it's volume and severity increasing with each iteration. It was as if the words were a swarm of hornets was trapped inside of my skull, bumping against the bone as they tried to find a way free.

_… Felicia… Felicia… Felicia_.

I gave my head a shake to try and clear my mind so I could go back to scheming, but it did no good. The chastising voice continued to assault my head, the echoes quickly building to a nearly intolerable volume. And, oh, how my body began to ache as the volume built: the ringing sound of my own name seemed to travel through me and into my bones, sending them vibrating as if someone was drilling through them with a dulled spoon. I remembered this sensation from the night before, but recalled it taking a lot more resistance on my part to make the cacophony of sound get so painful. It was if whoever was on the other side of the vexation that plagued my head had learned not to waste time toying with me. The voice had an impatient edge to it as I (however stupidly) kept trying to ignore it. I knew there really wasn't any sense to it, but it seemed ill suited of my upstanding character to not try to fight the voice or to try to push aside consuming urge to go east, towards town, that always accompanied it.

_… Felicia… Felicia… __**Felicia**_.

Suddenly, I found myself struggling to stand in place. It was as if my feet were possessed of their own will, and were fighting to carry me away. Stubbornly, I resisted. I rooted myself in place, warring against the need to move that swarmed through me like a termite infestation. The need chewed and stung at every inch of my insides, making it harder and harder to remain still as the seconds ticked by. Each time my name sounded in my head, the desire to run east swelled and my resolve waned. My body ached to find the source of the intangible assailant that terrorized my head, to face him (and I was sure it was a 'him'). But I couldn't just run off. I couldn't. I shouldn't. I wouldn't… wouldn't I?

After all, what would David say if I just took off like that?

A stunning moment of clarity (and blissful silence) passed through me with my last thought. What _would_ David say if I took off? He would say nothing. Absolutely, positively, certainly nothing. David had promised me a night to myself which meant I had no reason to fear any recourse from him in the slightest. Even if he didn't like it, it really made no difference. If I wanted to run off to town, satiating this externally-placed need to find the source of my invisible and annoyingly constant companion, I could. I was free to do whatever I wanted, no matter what David would think when he found out.

_… __**FELICIA!**_

Freed from any reason to resist the temptation the voice inspired within me, I rounded on the trees that bordered the bluff and took off running down the familiar path to Santa Carla. I had no idea where I was going to go once I got there, but I didn't care. All I could think about was going towards town and not stopping until I reached… wherever I needed to be. Once hidden within the safety of the pine boughs I took to the air, agilely weaving through the mist and tangled branches like a stealth fighter. I pushed my body to go faster than I ever had before, desperate to reach my unknown final destination with enough time to interrogate the cause of the nuisance inside my head.

As I raced through the wilderness outside of town, I thought (however fleetingly) about what I was doing. For all I knew, I was screaming like a guided missile towards my death. I mean, how much did I really know about what I was getting myself into? Nothing. I had no clue who was calling me, if they were kind or had malicious intentions or where they even were. The only thing I knew for certain about this whole misadventure was that someone, somewhere, was telling to head east. How far east I had no clue, but I figured that I would intrinsically know when I had gone far enough. If not, I had a feeling that my suddenly silent friend (I'm starting to sound a little schizophrenic, aren't I?) would tell me what I had to do to find him.

Truthfully, I should have been terrified about what I was doing. I could feel the twinge of nagging suspicion that lurked at the back of my mind try, time and time again, to grow into something more substantial, but the rebellious energy that tickled away at my insides squashed it on each occasion. I knew, in my heart of hearts, that what I was doing wasn't a brilliant idea but I couldn't make myself feel anything other than thrilled. I was racing off to do something that I knew would make David furious, and I was doing it alone. That fact alone was enough to send me over the edge into a giddy state of bliss. It was as if I was back to fending for myself, before I had ever met David: I was free to make as many mistakes as I wanted and be equally stupid if I chose to. I was free to get myself into as much or as little trouble as I pleased, wherever and whenever I saw fit. I didn't have to weigh options, trying to figure out which course of action would get me into the least amount of trouble with David and what would make him happiest. It was exciting to have this much power over my life again—even if it was only for one night. Consequences be damned, tonight was about me and what _I _wanted.

Once I reached the edge of town I continued on foot for fear of being sighted by a human in the budding darkness. With the sun almost completely set I no longer felt drowsy so it was easy to run through the outskirts of town, passing the sleepy little homes that grew closer and closer together as I went. Within a matter of minutes, I was comfortably within Santa Carla, walking down the busy streets. Nightlife activates were on in full swing and the usual crowds of humans with golden skin, sun-kissed hair and beachy clothes milled about in the sultry evening atmosphere. The night air was humid and fragrant with the smell of the ocean, food from the boardwalk and distant trees, and a gentle hum of noise—a mixture of hundreds of conversations, of music and of the roar of the surf—drifted lazily along on the gentle breeze that ruffled my hair and whispered across my skin.

I continued east through town at a comfortable yet determined pace, the need that stirred and fluttered in my heart and my head serving as a constant reminder of my mission. I weaved easily around the throngs of people who failed to see me coming and enjoyed the wide berth that other more observant people gave me. I could hear people whispering about me occasionally as I went along, their hushed murmurs of awe and intrigued fear striking my ears just as hard as their poorly-hidden stares did on my back. Determined to remain unfazed, I paid the strangers no mind and just kept walking. Although I would have liked to turn on some of the more… _vocal_ bystanders and give them a piece of my mind (I mean, really: hadn't their mother's ever told them it was impolite to stare and whisper?), it wouldn't have done anyone—especially the offending humans—any good. So, instead, I drifted through Santa Carla like a phantom, unobtrusive, quiet and focused.

I passed by dozens of familiar stores, walking the path that I had travelled so frequently by motorcycle with David and the boys. There was the local convenience store, the gas bar, a restaurant or two, many other nondescript businesses, and… the VideoMax. I couldn't help but stop when the bright red neon sign caught my eye, the familiar lettering and hum of electricity seeming a little too much like a sign for 'home'. Standing across the street, I debated whether the invisible monkey on my back would be okay if I took a slight detour. It wouldn't be a long visit, but Max deserved to know (yet again) that everything was okay with me. The last time I had spoken to Max, David had shown up looking fit enough to kill me. At the time, I had also looked (not to mention _felt_) like I was about to expire. Seeing as Max was one of my few friends, it wasn't fair for me to leave him uncertain if I was going to be okay or not. I mean, it wasn't like I was going to be able to see him very much any more anyways: I didn't trust myself to be around him now that I was… what I was.

Biting my lip as I thought, I surveyed the storefront. I could clearly see the bank of TVs along the back wall of the store; tonight, Max was running movies instead of cartoons alongside the usual collection of music videos. If I listened carefully enough, I could hear the music that played quietly over the overhead speaker system, the up-beat electronic dance music just loud enough to break the silence of the typically quiet store. The neon cutouts that hung from the ceiling swayed in the draft from the air conditioning, sending rays of diffused coloured light around the large space. I could see that Max had hung up yet another small neon sign, this one of a small Coca Cola can, on one of the walls; the extra hit of red light making the store just that little bit brighter inside.

I couldn't help but sigh wistfully.

Quickly, I took an internal survey. As before, the need to keep moving east was still floating around inside of my chest, tickling my insides like a trapped moth. But, as I stood there, waiting for my insides to begin screaming at me to walk on, nothing seemed to change. My head remained mercifully silent and my body remained under my complete control. As it seemed, taking a few minutes to visit with Max was apparently a permissible detour (in the eyes of the disembodied voice in my head) from my quest to meet the source of my nagging 'friend'.

Cautiously, I took my first step out into the street. When my head remained quiet, save for the familiar sound of my _own_ internal voice, I took another step. And then another. And another. Before I knew it, I was all the way across the street. I paused in front of the door to the VideoMax, my hand hovering over the handle. I waited, anxious, for the voice to start again now that I was really and truly planning on deviating from my mission, to bellow wordlessly at me to keep moving down the street… but nothing happened. The quivering need to keep moving continued to live within my chest, but it didn't grow. It remained a constant, prickling reminder of what I needed to do to be able to relax again and nothing more. Hesitating a moment longer, I placed my hand firmly against the cold metal door pull, tensing my muscles in preparation to open the door. I thought that might earn me a mental chastising, but still there was nothing.

Hm. Well, colour me surprised and call me Shirley.

Although I could still feel the need to move east through town simmering quietly inside of my gut, I shoved the sensation and associated compulsive thoughts aside for later. I really did want to see Max and far be it from me to ignore a chance to do so. The need to move, to find the source of the voice that plagued my thoughts, was nowhere near as strong as it had been a few minutes ago, so it was easy to ignore—at least for now. Surely, when the person (and I was sure there _was_ someone on the other end of my annoyingly constant mental companion) who was so desperate to find me felt I had lollygagged enough, the intensity of the now quietly nagging whispers would increase and I would have to keep moving. Until that happened, though, I was intent on enjoying my evening of (relative) freedom and doing so by chatting with Max. I needed to show him that I was okay after what happened between David and I at the store the other night; deserved that much for all he'd done for me.

Smiling to myself, I pulled open the door to Max's store and walked inside. The small bell above the entry way signalled my entrance, the familiar sound singing merrily in my ears. Other than the scant few people milling around the shelves of movies, quietly thumbing through the hundreds of glossy cassette tape boxes, the store was dead. There was an older gentleman who was trying to hide the fact that he was balding by wearing a beige Windsor cap; a young girl in three-quarter-length silver tights and a draping purple shirt; and a middle-aged woman with mousey brown hair and red reading glasses which were perched on the end of her long, narrow nose. All of them were oblivious to me—no one looked up when I entered—but it didn't really make a world of difference. I would rather no one paid me any attention if it could be avoided.

Flitting quickly around the store, I scanned the space for any hint that Max was hiding somewhere just out of my keen sight. I peeked cautiously between each of the rows of movies, making sure I didn't linger long enough to catch the attention of the humans. Nothing. Slightly disheartened, I walked towards the main counter to wait for someone to come out of the back and spot me. The people who worked here always knew what Max was up to when he wasn't minding the store so it made sense to ask them instead of wandering around Santa Carla trying to find him myself. Leaning gingerly against the cool counter top, I looked over at the single glass cases of souvenirs that Max had for sale as if I would possible find him trying to conceal himself amongst the brightly coloured nick-nacks. I listened to the people milling around the store as I waited, pretending to distantly examine the plastic and glass bobbles to hide the fact that I was eavesdropping as they muttered quietly to themselves.

"… well that doesn't sound interesting at all," I heard the balding gentleman whisper to himself. I then heard him tuck a cassette neatly back onto the rack, the plastic clanking ever so softly against the thin metal shelf, and pick up another. "Hm," he mused as he most likely examined the cover (I wasn't about to look over at him to make sure), "I wonder which one Lorraine will like more? She's so particular about films…" He paused then to flip the case he was currently holding over in his hand, his weathered hands rubbing like sandpaper on the textured case, to read the back. "A young man enlists the help of a gunnery sergeant and his girlfriend to complete his training at a Naval Flight school," he read, sounding intrigued. "What's this called again? 'An Officer and a Gentleman'. Interesting. Maybe this will remind Lorraine of when we started going out and I was in the air force…" Here he made a satisfied noise under his breath as if he was smiling. "It'll be just like old times," he said fondly to himself. I then heard him flip the case back over in his aged hands to look at the cover again.

Bored, I shifted my attention to the young girl that was browsing the comedy section. She was about three-quarters of the way down the aisle, tapping her sneakered foot noisily on the tiles. "Ugh," she grumbled under her breath, her tone tainted with a hint of Valley-Girl-itis, "why do _I_ always have to go pick up the movies? Ray is so lazy sometimes; some older brother _you_ are…" I listened carefully as she shuffled a foot or two down the aisle, her hands dragging lazily over the rows of films. "I don't even _want_ to watch a movie tonight. I want to go to the boardwalk and go on some rides. But nooo, Ray's always 'me, me, me, I, I, I. _I'm_ in charge when mom and dad are out. _I'm_ older so I'm the boss of you. Blah, blah, blah. I'm Ray: I'm a big, fat, stupid jerk'. Like, seriously: gag me with a spoon…"

I couldn't help but roll my eyes.

Bored already, I turned my attention to the middle-aged woman. Unlike the other two patrons in Max's store, I could see her from where I was standing at the check-out counter. She was standing quietly in the drama section with her back to me: her hand was placed firmly under her pointed chin and her posture was stiff and cautious. She was looking at the film cases before her, but not really seeing them. I instantly got the feeling that she could sense that I was paying attention to her even if I was just watching her from the corner of my eye.

"That girl is so strange-looking," I heard her mumble under her breath, her soft voice tinged with unease. "She's so pale and severe-looking. Oh, sure, she's beautiful, but… strange. _Too _strange. I don't like it."

I couldn't help but frown. Even though _I _was the one eavesdropping, I was incensed that she would say something like that about me. I didn't look _that_ different… I pretended not to notice when the woman looked over her shoulder at me, trying to take an inconspicuous look at my face. I could see her muddy-green eyes raking over my face, taking in as much of my appearance as she could without having me notice. "Maybe she's foreign," the woman mused to herself as she turned back to the movies and pretended to brows the titles. She was obviously too distracted with thinking about me, the stranger, to actually be reading the titles as quickly as she was flicking through them. "That might explain why she looks so… _striking_. I wonder if she's from Europe? Don't lots of European people have blue eyes? Well, they're not really blue-blue; more like green-blue. But, then again, I don't think I've ever seen _anyone_ with eyes like that—"

"—Can I help you?"

I jumped, my focus ripped away from the mutterings of the woman in the drama section, when an unfamiliar, relaxed voice came from directly behind me. I turned away from the wall I had been glaring at (glaring makes eavesdropping more effective: true story) and around to the source of the new sound. A young man—obviously Max's new hired help—was standing behind the counter, directly across from me. His dark eyebrows were arched into a slightly disbelieving expression, making it seem as if I had just told him I had recently returned from outer space.

"Hm?" I asked absently to try and hide the fact that he had snuck up on me.

The clerk smiled to himself and shook his head ever so slightly. "I asked if I can help you with anything?" He repeated, his calm voice full of laughter.

"Yeah, you can actually" I said slowly, taking a quick second to examine him. He had large, dark brown eyes that were the same colour as his spiked hair, and a kind, round face. Although he was sporting a tasteful goatee, he was mostly likely my age or a few years older. Keeping true to the decade, he was wearing a plain white tee with a baggy plaid button-up shirt over top, the sleeves of which were rolled up to his elbows to expose the dark olive skin of his forearms. I couldn't see what he was wearing on his legs, but I assumed (with a very high degree of confidence) that he was sporting blue jeans.

"Well… ?" He said equally slow, mocking me. The small smile he was wearing exploded into a cheerful grin when I gave him a pointed stare.

"I'm looking for Max," I said easily, wrapping my fingers around the edge of the counter and drumming them gently on the glass. "Do you know where he is?"

Disappointment flashed across the young man's face as if he had been expecting me to say I was looking for someone to go to the movies with. "He stepped out to get his dog," the clerk shrugged, trying to look as indifferent as possible. He then crossed his arms over his chest as he leaned back against the register, making sure to flex his muscles as he did so. I let an indulgent smile creep onto my lips, the young man's obvious attempt to impress me endearing.

"When?" I asked, keeping things strictly friendly. Even though he was good looking, he wasn't my type. If I was to be honest, I was currently looking at the world (and all the people in it) through blond-haired-blue-eyed-vampire-tinted glasses.

"A while ago," he smiled. He was being obviously vague now, dragging out the conversation to keep me there with him for as long as possible. It was cute in a 'nice-boy-sees-cute-girl' way, but I suddenly felt like I was living in a re-run of a bad sit-com.

I rolled my eyes and smiled, the clerk's determination to chat me up striking me as oddly funny. "When is he going to be back?"

The clerk hummed a little as he glanced at the clock on the cash register, quickly counting minutes in his head. "Soon," he said finally, flashing me a playful grin. "He left about a half hour ago."

… Did I ever mention that 'Twenty-one Questions' is my least favourite game?

"I'll just stick around until he gets back, then," I laughed, leaning back on my heels.

"Sounds like a plan to me," the clerk winked, his eyes shining like pools of molten dark chocolate.

"Glad I have your approval," I said wryly, making the young man behind the counter laugh.

The clerk smiled at me, his kind face radiating with silent, hearty laughter. "Well, Max doesn't usually allow loitering," he teased, bracing himself against the counter as I backed away, "but I'll make an exception—just for you."

I smiled, giving the clerk a skeptical look that I was sure read something along the lines of 'Yeah, _riiight_'. "I'll be sure to keep that in mind," I said dryly, placing another backwards step between myself and the check-out counter before I turned and walked over to the meticulously organized rows of movies. I ducked into the first empty section—romance, lucky me—and pretended to busy myself with browsing the glossy cassette tapes.

I could hear the other people still milling around in the other isles, their feet shuffling clumsily along the black and white checker-board floor tiles. I flipped through the glossy video cases before me, feeling the strange way the gently-textured protective plastic moved under my fingertips. Not really reading any of the titles, I instead went back to listening to the humans that were still in the store. The old man was slowly making his way over to the check-out counter, the movie he had selected earlier tucked under his arm. (I could hear his neatly pressed shirt rustling against the case). As I pretended to browse the cassettes, looking at the glossy cover pictures without really seeing them, I listened as the gentleman finally made it over to talk to the clerk.

"Find everything you were looking for?" The young man asked, his voice tainted with a hint of distraction.

"Yes, thank you," the older gentleman said as he placed his precious cargo on the glass counter top. I heard his hand linger for a second on the cover, the aged texture of his skin audible as he dragged his fingers across the plastic. Next I heard the shuffling of fabric on fabric and the jingle of keys against loose change: the older man was preemptively fishing around in his pockets for money.

I heard the clerk reach lazily across the counter and slide the cassette closer to himself. Plastic parted from glass with a heavy sigh from the young man and the bar code reader on the register beeped loudly. After that, the clerk quickly punched a few keys on the till, the clicking of plastic and shrill rings harsh on my ears. The roll of paper then passed noisily through the machine, printing out the beginning of a receipt.

"That'll be five dollars, please," the clerk said with minimal enthusiasm, repeating a line he obviously said more times in one night than he would care to count.

The gentleman gave the smallest of sighs, the tiny expulsion of air heavily laden with frustration. "Darn things keep getting more and more expensive," he muttered under his breath, too quiet for the clerk to hear, as he carefully counted out bills and coins on the counter. A few moments later, metal and paper scraped across the glass, the sound grating like nails on a chalkboard.

"Five dollars—there you are," the elderly gentleman aid, his voice patient and kind. The baritone measure of his tone instantly made me thinks of leather-bound books and pipe smoke.

"Thanks," the clerk said, picking up the money and ringing it through the register without pausing to count it. He must have been watching the older man count it to be so confident he had been given the correct amount.

A few more key strokes on the till and the receipt finished printing, the sound reminding me of an automated typewriter that was in desperate need of servicing. A quick ripping and tearing of paper; a hand slapping down on plastic; plastic sliding across glass. "The due date's a week from today, sir," the clerk said, repeating his lines with all the enthusiasm of a tenured university professor. "The date's on the receipt, too."

"Thank you," the gentleman said as he folded the receipt and placed it in his pocket. He then scooped up his rental before calmly ducking out of the store, the little bell over the door chiming merrily behind him.

The store went quiet for a moment, the only sound the music that played quietly over the sound system. The girl in the comedy aisle was still complaining to herself, blathering on about how useless her older brother was. Not interested in listening to more of her quiet lecture on how her parents were morons for giving someone like Ray rule of the house whenever they went out, I decidedly focused my attention on the older woman at the back of the store. She had, apparently, given up on renting a film all together and was now trying to make as quiet an exit from the store as possible. I could hear her tip-toeing towards the exit, muttering to herself the whole while.

"Where did that strange-looking girl go? She was at the counter a second ago and now she's gone. Maybe she left? I hope she did: I don't want her to see me leave… Not that I should really be worrying about something so silly. She's just a young woman. Really, you're being silly, Irene," she scolded herself as she quickly and gingerly walked past the aisle of films towards the door.

I listened carefully as the fabric of her skirt swished against itself with each measured step she took, hesitating every so often when she (most likely) reached the mouth of a new aisle. Every time she found the aisle empty (or occupied by a much smaller and less threatening girl), she would walk on a little more confidently, her pace more and more relieved. I continued to pretend to browse the videos as she neared, bracing myself for the moment she stumbled upon me.

"… After all, what is there to worry about really? It's not like she's going to hurt you. You're letting your imagination run away with you, Irene. Just because she looks a little different doesn't mean anything," she muttered as she continued to near my aisle. I began counting down the seconds in my head as her footfalls approached.

Five…

"Maybe she's from out-of-town or out of the country," the older woman murmured, now only four seconds away.

… Four…

I forced myself to read the back of the video cassette I was holding (Arthur; Rachel had, unfortunately, forced me to see the original 1981 version a billion times so I already knew the story) to keep myself from looking at her when she finally crossed my path.

"But even if that is the case…"

… Three…

"… you shouldn't be so judgemental…"

… Two…

"… or afraid. It's not like she's a—"

… One.

"—monster."

I heard the woman's gait falter when she crossed the mouth of the aisle I was standing in. I continued to scan the movie in my hand without reading it, the words passing repeatedly before my eyes in nonsensical blur. The older woman's eyes fell on me like two nine-pound hammers, her shock of seeing me where she didn't expect me tangible. I heard her breath catch in her throat, her jaw snap shut and her heart begin to race. She stood frozen, hardly breathing as she stared at me.

Her tenseness was infectious. I felt my spine straighten reflexively under her gaze; I could feel the woman's eyes raking over my face, transfixed as if she was staring at a rabid beast: over-come with primal fear but too transfixed by its strangeness to look away. I tried to keep pretending like I didn't notice her, but it was quickly becoming a monumental task. I could feel her eyes on me, smell the sweat that was beading on the back of her neck, hear her galloping pulse beating like a drum in my ears; it was like she had caught me in the middle of murdering someone and couldn't figure out whether to run or call for help. Unsettled, I looked over at her (like people do when they feel like they're being watched), met her muddy eyes which were wide with terror, and smiled as politely as I could.

_ "Move, Irene, you idiot; you're staring,"_ the woman muttered to herself even though she remained frozen in place. _"Keep __**walking**__."_

It was at that moment, as I smiled at the older woman and listened to her berate herself, I realized that, even though I could hear her—Irene—talking, her lips weren't moving. Her mouth remained a chiseled line, sealed shut as if someone had lined her lips with super glue, even though her voice continued to ring out as if she was shouting at me.

_ "Oh, no! She's frowning; she noticed you're staring,"_ I heard Irene's voice echo, edging on frantic, before she finally moved: she glanced away for a moment before looking back at me. In that split second when she wasn't looking, I checked myself to see if I really was frowning. I was. A somewhat quizzically glare had settled on my face, the confusion and horror that was building in my chest manifesting clearly in my expression. I rearranged my upset frown into something softer just as the older woman looked back at me.

"Sorry," she said (aloud this time), her voice sounding exactly the same beneath the fear that tainted her words as I had 'heard' before. "I thought you were someone else."

I ignored her lie, happy for an easily scripted conversation to hide my own mounting unease. "Don't worry about it," I said as calmly as I could, dismissing her by going back to staring, unseeing, at the movie in my hands.

I then heard the woman walk away, her gait rushed but restrained. She was trying to keep herself from sprinting towards the door, most likely to keep me from paying any more attention to her. Her efforts were unnecessary, though: I was far too consumed by my own emotions and confusion. Over and over again, I ran through the course of the past fifteen minutes in my head. I kept going over everything and anything I had thought or done since the moment I walked into the doors of the VideoMax, trying to figure out when and how I had started to… channel my inner Bob Cassidy. All I had done that was in any way out of the ordinary was focus on listening to what the other people in the store were doing—people watching, if you would, from a distance. Nothing more, nothing less.

David hadn't mentioned anything to me about mentalism being a significant part of turning into a vampire, so maybe I was just imagining things. Maybe the woman—Irene—had just spoke so subtly that I hadn't been able to see her lips moving. Or, even better, maybe she hadn't said anything at all and I was just imagining things. After all, had I not been put under a lot of stress lately, both physically and mentally? I mean, I'd developed situational schizophrenia and an unnatural compulsion to find the source of said disembodied voices. Maybe being able to 'read minds' was just an extension of my psychosis.

… Yeah. Right.

Hundreds of possibilities began flashing through my head as the unease that had taken root in my gut morphed into something akin to dread. David wouldn't have left out something as important as being able to _hear other people's thoughts_ out from our conversation the other night—he wouldn't have dared to. That was something that quite easily fell under the category of 'essential knowledge', like being able to, I don't know, _fly_ did. And had he had promised to be honest with me? If I remembered correctly, David had answered all of my inane questions easily. At a few points, he even went so far to divulge more information than he had needed to…

Except for one occasion.

There was that one question—that one seemingly innocent question—I had asked about how he always seemed to know exactly what I was thinking. He had danced around giving me an answer forever and even asked (more like begged) me to change the subject. My 'stupid question' had made him uncomfortable enough for me to notice him squirm. _I_ had even felt uncomfortable after opening my mouth. I knew the second after I had asked David I didn't really want to know why he was so eerily perceptive. Now, it all made perfect sense.

All this time, I thought I had been keeping secrets from him to protect myself and yet David hadn't had the _decency_ to tell me otherwise!

I nearly let the video cassette in my hand slip from my grasp as realization collided into my brain like a runaway freight train. I caught it without really thinking, flipping the case over to make my sudden movement seem purposeful (just in case someone was watching). Ice filled my stomach, radiating outwards like so many tiny pins scraping and sticking through my veins, and my heart sank to my feet like a stone, leaving a convenient void for hurt and rage to fill—all before the bell over the door had finished announcing Irene's hurried exit.

I heard myself let out a frustrated sigh as I glared down at the image in my hands. "I should've known," I hissed to myself, concentrating on the feeling of my anger burning hot and deep beneath my unchanging skin.

"Yeah, I don't like that one either," the young clerk said suddenly, his voice uncomfortably close to me. "The whole arranged-marriage-plot-thing was just ridiculous."

I jumped (twice in one evening; how embarrassing) when he spoke, his attempt at nonchalant conversation interrupting my budding internal turmoil. In an effort to hide how I had flinched, I carefully placed the movie I had been pretending to read back in its proper place on the shelf. Without missing a beat, I looked over at him with a small smile to make it look like I was happy to see him even though I really felt like screaming. He was leaning casually against one of the two shelves at the mouth of the aisle, his hands stuffed into the pockets of his blue jeans (ten points to me).

"I saw it in theatres," I lied, turning to face him. "It was okay; not what I expected, but not too bad."

The clerk's eyes lit up as if I had just professed something important to him. "Do you like going to the movies a lot?" He asked, trying a little to hard to play it off like he wasn't really interested in hearing the answer.

"Depends," I shrugged, wishing that he would leave me alone. I didn't want to be rude, but I was looking for an easy way to give him the slip and take a rain-cheque on my visit with Max. My chest was becoming uncomfortably tight with my anger and I was in desperate need to release it. I needed to get out of the store and away from other people so I could… do something to make myself feel better. My hope was that, from now on, if I stuck to monosyllabic responses, the clerk would get the hint and let me go on my merry way.

The clerk nodded, acting as if I had given him a long-winded answer. I could tell by the tiny frown lines around his eyes that he was thrown off by my lack of an answer and was trying to save face. "Are you from out-of-town?" He asked, changing subjects in a very David-esque manner.

"Yes," I said, my voice guarded as I muttered a trimmed-down version of the lie I had used so many times before. "Why?" I tacked on without thinking.

… So much for keeping to the more curt side of friendly.

The clerk smiled, happy to have an opportunity to keep me talking. "No reason," he shrugged, relaxed again, "it's just that I haven't seen you at the theatre in Los Gatos like… ever. Seemed like a safe bet to assume you were."

"You must hang out there a lot to remember never seeing me there," I said pointedly, my convictions from moments ago now completely thrown out the window.

The clerk smiled and chuckled, the sound tinted with embarrassment. A slight pink hue flushed his cheeks, hidden ever so slightly by his olive complexion. He unconsciously rubbed the back of his head as he silently scrambled to come up with a witty response, his smile still in place. "Yeah," he finally said, unsure if I would admonish or validate him as he spoke, "it's practically my second home."

Again: cute, but not interested. Despite how mad I was at David, there was no sense in trying to suggest that I had eyes for anyone else.

I didn't say anything right away. Instead, I let him sweat a little, hoping there was still a chance he might feel awkward enough to end the conversation leave. That way, I wouldn't have to resort to _making_ him leave by being curt(er) or rude(r). Not that I was being the picture of 'conversational' to begin with, but that wasn't what was important. I didn't want to get involved with strangers if I could avoid it: there would be fewer chances for accidents that way, and I was certainly angry enough to cause one.

"I'm Jeffrey, by the way," the clerk said hurriedly to fill the dead air left by my lack of response. He held out his hand to me, the gesture common but slightly daunting. I stared at his large palm for a split second, debating if I should offer him my hand in return.

"Felicia," I said with a small smile to make myself appear less apprehensive and sour. Gingerly, I took Jeffrey's hand: I was afraid of my own strength, and I was worried that I would unintentionally hurt him if I acted too naturally. Since becoming a vampire, I hadn't had what you could label a positive interaction with a human. I had no idea how much I needed to restrain myself around them to not cause harm. As I mechanically shook Jeffrey's hand, I tried to keep my muscles from going rigid, but it was hard. I felt like I was trying to hold back a spring that I hadn't noticed was coiled up beneath my skin until that very moment. When Jeffrey didn't yell out in pain, I knew I had done a satisfactory job.

"So, when did you move here?" Jeffrey asked casually, trying to be inconspicuous as he ferreted around for more details about me. He had taken a step or two closer to me to shake my hand and now was trying to fin a way to look 'cool' without having to move back to the mouth of the aisle. He tried crossing his arms at first, but eventually settled on putting his hands back into his pockets and striking what I assumed was supposed to be a laid-back stance.

"Not long ago," I said automatically before turning back to the movies I had been pretending to browse before I was interrupted. I skimmed my fingers gingerly over the covers, making it seem as if I was scanning the titles. In truth, I was really trying to make an outlet for the anger that was still simmering away inside me by focusing on how the plastic felt underneath my fingertips. Every imperfection in the soft, supple sheathing that guarded the glossy cover images stood out perfectly beneath my sensitive touch, the minute changes in texture exaggerated like corrugations in a piece of cardboard. It seemed to work—for the moment.

As I stood there, pretending to be busy, I heard Jeffrey shift his weight from side to side as people do when they're nervous. I imagined he was probably gnawing over whether or not to ask the next question he had lined up for me, scared to say something that would embarrass him or put me off.

That was when it hit me: I couldn't hear anything Jeffrey was thinking.

Ever since her had interrupted my frantic thought about the older woman—Irene—I hadn't 'heard' anything but the sound of my own thoughts bounding around in my usually over-crowded head. No extra voices (old or new) were interrupting me or affecting me in any way. Stunned, I accidentally missed skimming my hand across the titles of several movies in front of me, nearly ruining the guise that I was actually considering picking up a case at some point.

So, I reasoned, my mind methodically sorting through the realizations that had just smacked me upside the head, I actually had to _think _about listening to other people's thoughts to 'hear' them. I recalled back to when I had walked into the VideoMax and how hyper-focused I had been on the other people in the store, using them as a source of entertainment. I had been purposefully tryingto hear everything they were doing, down to their smallest movements or shifts in weight. To do that, I had let my senses… go, in a sense—I had let them become as acute and razor-sharp as possible (without really thinking about it). Therefore, it only stood to reason that mental-eavesdropping wasn't something that just happened on accident: I had to _want_ it to happen.

Of course the second that thought flickered through my head, all I could then think about what what Jeffrey could have possibly been trying to muster up the gumption to ask me. Slamming the breaks on that rampant desire, I focused as hard as I could on _not_ taking a peek into Jeffrey's head—I really did want to avoid hearing what other people where thinking if I could (apparently) avoid it; I wouldn't want them violating the sanctity of my thoughts.

Flicking my eyes around wildly, I tried to find something to busy myself with. I tried counting the number of movies on the shelf, but that wouldn't last me long enough. I couldn't tract patterns on the floor with my eyes because then Jeffrey would know that I was ignoring him on purpose. That meant that examining the tiny differences between the drop-ceiling panels was also out of the question. Frantic, I glanced back over to Jeffrey just as he was taking a deep breath in to speak. At that second, I decided it probably wasn't a bad idea after all to entertain an involved conversation with him. It would keep my mind busy enough to keep from wandering into thoughts that weren't meant for my ears _and_ it meant that I could hang around the store for a little while longer. My schizophrenic 'friend' hadn't mad a repeat appearance just yet so I really had no reason to run off prematurely.

Turning abruptly away from the neatly field rows of videos, I faced Jeffrey again with renewed purpose. Even though I knew he was getting ready to ask me something, I blurted out a question of my own instead. "How long have you been living here—in Santa Carla?" I asked kindly, trying to be friendly now and hoping my lightened demeanour wouldn't be shockingly apparent.

Jeffrey stared at me for a moment, stunned. Apparently, my shift in attitude was more noticeable that I had anticipated. He opened and closed his mouth a few times, scrambling to remember how to speak. I waited patiently until he found his voice and formed a sentence.

"Uh," he began slowly before he remembered he was trying to impress me, "I was born in Los Gatos, but my parents moved here when I was, like, seven or something."

"Why?" I pressed, hyper-focusing on anything and everything but what might have been going on behind the scenes in Jeffrey's head.

He shrugged, playing it cool again. I honestly wasn't fooled; he was still laying on the charm little too thick. "Dunno, small-town feel I guess. You'd have to ask them."

"I moved here to get away from a big town, too," I fibbed, lies coming far too easily now that I knew no one would ever see the tell-tale signs of a lie in my face again.

Jeffrey smiled, his dark eyes lighting up with excitement. "Why did your parents decide to move to Santa Carla instead of somewhere else?"

I could tell by the tone of his voice that he was hoping I was still living at home with the 'rents' and not in Santa Carla because of a boyfriend. The way he stressed the word 'parents' gave him away. No doubt he was repeating a mantra in his head, praying that I was going to be the single-new-girl-in-town or something equally silly.

… Then again, I could always just find out if I was right instead of making guesses. I mean, I practically knew what he was thinking already; why not just make sure I was right? It wouldn't hurt anyone.

"No," I said aloud, the berating I was giving myself for letting my mind wander accidentally becoming verbal. Luckily, my unintended, slightly severe, outburst answered Jeffrey's question.

Two birds, one stone.

Jeffrey looked at me, confused by the harshness in my voice. I silently (for sure this time) cursed myself for forgetting to use my inside voice. "No," I said again, softer this time, and adding a small head shake for effect, "I'm here with some friends of mine."

I watched suspicion creep into Jeffrey's expression. His eyebrows knitted together ever so slightly and his smile hardened reflectively; he didn't like how open-ended my explanation was. "Like… roommates or something?" He asked, the implication that these 'roommates' of mine were girls heavy and a little loud for my taste.

I found myself wondering exactly what he was thinking, if he was mentally grumbling over the fact that I was being so vague or if he was trying to convince himself that the fact I was rooming (insert a scoff and eye-roll here) with friends was nothing to worry about. At first I admonished myself for going back to that train of though again but, after a second or two, I began to debate whether or not it was such a bad idea after all. I wanted to see, now that I had figured out how my new magic trick worked, if I could repeat what I had so unwittingly done earlier. But, then again, I knew how devious it was of me to purposefully listen in on someone's internal dialogue. I wouldn't want to have something do the same to me, so it would be entirely hypocritical for me to go around doing it when the mood struck.

As my mind traversed the pro's and con's of psychic privacy invasion, I caught myself starting to listen a little too intently to Jeffrey—to the deep, calm sound of his breathing; to the way he was picking nervously at the linking of his right pocked; to how his sleeves rubbed against his arms every time her flexed his hands or his shoulders—and immediately stopped. I loosed my crafty noggin instead on listening the store's music, futilely busying myself with trying to guess the band's name.

"Something like that," I said offhandedly. "We put up with each other."

"So…" Jeffrey began, stretching out the word as the wheel and cogs in his head worked, "is one of them your, uh, bo—"

"—Customer," a stern but pleasantly familiar voice interrupted. Caught just as off-guard as Jeffrey was, I quickly looked back to the mouth of the aisle: Ma was standing there in his usual, unassuming eighties garb, his arms folded tight with disapproval, over his chest. He was looking pointedly from Jeffrey to the checkout counter where the young girl—the one who had been sent out to rent a movie by her older brother—was waiting impatiently to be helped.

Jeffrey shot me an apologetic look before sprinting over towards the till. I heard him mutter a quick 'Sorry, Max' as he passed his boss, the sound almost unintelligible. Seconds later he dashed around the counter and started attending to the young girl who had, obviously, settled on a movie that both she and Ray would like.

"You're looking much better today," Max said as I continued to watch Jeffrey, paying a bit too much attention as he dealt with the young girl. I was suddenly fascinated with watching how his hands moved—how every small change din position or grasp make his skin fold in stunningly different ways.

When Max cleared his throat, I forced myself to look away and focus on him.

"It's that much of an improvement, huh?" I asked jokingly as I glanced down to the floor when I felt a hard nudge against my leg. Thorn was there, looking up at my happily with his tongue lolling out. I instantly squatted down to pet him, ruffling his head and ears playfully. "Hey, Thorn! I missed you," I crooned to the dog, earning myself an enthusiastic (albeit sloppy) lick on the face.

"He's been moping around the house for the longest time. I think he missed you, too," Max said kindly, though I swore I could hear a hint of an accusation beneath the sentiment.

I wiped my face as looked up at my friend. Simultaneously, I managed to stave off another wet attack from Thorn by scratching the massive dog's nose and chin with my free hand. I let myself smile when Max began to chuckle, but couldn't help noticing the way he was scanning my face. He took a second or two to examine my features, pausing in certain spots as if he was, for the first time in years, viewing a priceless painting he had sent away for repair.

"Well he's making up for lost time, that's for sure," I said before standing up. Thorn quickly took up a seat next to me, pressing his body heavily into my leg. Absently, I reached down and began to pet the top of his head like it was an old habit. His snow-white fur felt even softer under my fingers than it had the first time I had felt it: each strand seemed to be made of the purest silk, slipping easily under the weight of my hand and against my smooth skin. It was heavenly.

"And in answer to your question" Max said, turning our conversation back in a direction he wanted, "yes, it is really that much of a change." His familiar voice was patient and even as he spoke, but I still couldn't ignore the undercurrent of accusation that he was trying to ferret away. "You looked like you were on your deathbed the last time I saw you."

Ten points to the man in the khakis and the powder-blue button-up shirt!

I rolled me eyes, confident that I was now capable of keeping a secret from Max. Before tonight my face would have given something away, blushing at hearing the truth so unwittingly thrown into casual conversation. Now, the reality behind Max's turn of phrase was a secret I could keep to myself, letting the prickles of shock bloom inside of me without anyone knowing. I mean, now that I was a vampire, the only way Max would have been able to know just how right he was would be to read my mind—and it wasn't like _he_ could do that.

"That's a bit of an exaggeration," I frowned, hiding the fact he was right by pretending to be mildly upset by his teasing. I continued to stroke Thorn's head, enjoying the feeling of his heavy, happy panting against my thigh and calf. "It was just the flu or some twenty-four hour bug; I'm feeling as healthy as a horse."

… Well, maybe not as alive as a horse, but it's best not to get bogged down with semantics.

Lies rolled off of my tongue effortlessly now, as if I had been excellent at spinning them my entire life. I could feel myself reacting internally to the untruth I had just told—my chest felt tight, my spine tingled, a blush raged beneath the calm of my skin—but, externally, I was a picture of calm. Sweat didn't slick my palms, my climbing heartbeat didn't make me tremble. It was a fantastic feeling to finally be ale to keep my own secrets; it didn't make me any more comfortable lying to Max, but I figured there were just some things he was better off not knowing.

Max gave me one of his signature skeptical-father stares, his eyes narrowing behind his large glasses. Even though I knew he could possible have known his earlier sarcasm was a more like a statement of fact, I got the feeling he still knew that something wasn't kosher with the story I was trying to sell him. At the same time, thought, he seemed pleased as if he was happy I was trying to deceive him (for once). The corner of his mouth was twitching upwards into a tiny grin—the kind my father would have given me when he watched me fix something on my motorcycle for the first time without help.

"Hm. Well, all the same," he sighed, letting his wariness melt into a full-blown smile, "I'm happy you're better."

"Me, too," I nodded resolutely, closing the topic from further conversation. I didn't want to dwell on my health if I could avoid it: that way there would be fewer chances for me to screw up and say something incriminating or contradictory.

Silence fell between Max and I just in time for me to hear Jeffrey wish the young girl he had been dealing with at the checkout counter a good night and close the register. I flicked my eyes past Max to watch the girl as she walked to the exit and pulled on the large handle, making the bell over the door chime merrily.

"Where are your friends tonight?" Max asked casually as he turned to make sure that Jeffrey was busying himself by doing something useful around the store (sorting through returned movies from earlier in the day).

I smiled when Max looked back at me, happy to reply: "I have no idea. I'm out on my own tonight"… for once.

Max's brown furrowed with disapproval. He was back to acting the unhappy dad who had just heard his thirteen-year-old daughter went to the movies by herself for the first time. "You mean they just left you alone?"

"No," I scoffed, "more like I left them. I needed some time alone to… _recalibrate_. I'll be hanging out with them again tomorrow." Not to mention the next night, and the night after that…

"Oh," he said slowly, drawing out the word like a sigh. I could practically hear the cogs and gears grinding inside Max's head as his mind kicked into over-drive, taking his thoughts far away from our conversation. A few long seconds later, his eyes focused back on me and the present and he proceeded with his interrogation. "What are your plans for the evening, then? You can't possibly tell me that your idea of fun is hanging around my store," he laughed, though I got the feeling he didn't think my sticking around the VideoMax all night was a bad idea.

I was just about to open my mouth to make a witty reply about how hanging around in a sleepy movie-rental-slash-convenience-store was a far better time than hanging around with four idiotic boys when it hit me—and this time without the slow, maddening build.

_**FELICIA!**_

_** FELICIA!**_

_** FELICIA!**_

The driving need to continue heading east through town rocked through my body with the force of an atom bomb, sending every inch of my body reeling. My legs ached and throbbed as if they were being pulled by ropes and chains, while my knees bent against my will so sharply that had I not been resisting as forcefully as I was, they would have folded beneath me. Tremors snaked down my arms, making my hands quake so violently that I had to stuff them into my jean pockets to keep from drawing Max's attention. A fierce prickling raced up and down my back, electrocuting my muscles as if someone was sticking hundreds of hot needles into my flesh. I struggled to hold back the grimace that was threatening to contort my face, managing to force my expression into something barely neutral. Every fibre of my being was screaming for me to move, to leave the store as quickly as I could. As the seconds ticked by, I felt my body giving in here and there—a slight buckle of my knees, a noticeable tremble of my arms—but I managed to remain in place.

Had I been able to concentrate, I probably would have had an easier time keeping up a calm façade and resisting the unnatural forces that bubbled and boiled throughout my frame. That, however, was nothing more than a distant wish—a dream, even. The cacophonous roaring of my own name that accompanied the overwhelming _need_ to run (not just go) east was mounting within the fragile confines of my skull as time ticked by, getting more and more irritating and painful by the nanosecond. It was as if someone had managed to cram all of the speakers from a rock concert inside of my head. The sound of my own name roared and echoed repeatedly, forming my very own auditory hell. The bones of my skull seemed to vibrate and shake, sending irritating shivers into my jaw and teeth. I wanted to badly to take my hands and press them to my ears, but I knew that would just give my suffering away. Scraping together the last fragments of willpower I possessed, I snaked my already trembling fingers around as much of the lining of my pockets as I could grab and locked my elbows. It worked for the moment, but I wasn't sure how much more I would be able to stand.

An eternity of screaming and nearly irresistible compulsions seemed to pass before I was able to muster up the will and concentration to speak again.

"I'm not sure what I'm gong to do tonight," I lied, the effort it took to be able to speak coherently distracting me from standing still. I felt my legs flex as if to shuffle my feet across the floor, but caught myself just in time to keep from moving. At that point, I could only hope that I had sounded as normal and calm as I had intended, but I doubted that I had.

As I shifted the last dregs of my spare attention to focusing on Max, I noticed instantly that the friendly humour that had been in his gaze had been replaced by razor-sharp scrutiny. The harshness of his stare alone was enough to tell me that he knew something was up. "Is everything alright, Felicia?" Max asked quickly, his voice now heavy with the suspicion in his eyes.

Had I been less distracted, I'm sure I would have felt my heart and stomach plummet to the tips of my toes. "Yes," I said as nonchalantly as I could, "I just realized I forgot something important back at my friend's place."

Max glared at me, now clearly aware of my lies. I had the feeling that he knew something was terribly wrong with me, but couldn't quite place his finger on exactly what was troubling me. His brow was furrowed slightly over his large glasses, giving me a glimpse of the true extent of his more than warranted suspicion. "What did you forget?" He asked with all the demanding of an over-protective father.

Guilt shot through me like lightening, diverting my strained concentration for a fatal fraction of a second. Sadly, that was all it took for my legs to start moving of their own accord, carrying me closer to the door. It was as if I had become a marionette and all I could do was to resist as valiantly as I could against the entity tugging on my strings. When I realized what was happening, I locked my body down as quickly as I could, the amount of effort required to do so Herculean in scale. My muscles screamed in protest at I forced myself to stop: they trembled and shook as I stood, frozen like a statue and afraid to so much as blink.

I wanted to groan in anguish from the effort it took to speak _and_ keep my voice even, but I locked the sound away within my chest for later. There was no sense in making a scene now, regardless of how much I wanted to do so. "My ID—I forgot my ID," I muttered hurriedly, the lie popping into my head without much effort.

Max frowned at me, giving me one of the 'I know you know that I know you're lying to me' glares that only fathers know how to give. It killed me to maintain a straight face as I stared back at him, but I couldn't do much else. As much as I would have like to avert my eyes, staring down at my feet would have opened me up to relentless interrogation that I wouldn't have been able to withstand. Fidgeting was out of the question (for more reasons than one), so still I remained, fighting to bear the weight of Max's silent accusations along with the host of other ailments that plagued me. And so, for what felt like a year, my muscles ached, my head and ears rang, and shame gnawed at the space that was left.

It was enough to drive a normal person mad.

"Hm," Max said an eternity and a half later, his eyes still hard with fatherly disapproval. "Are you sure it can't wait? Thorn really has missed you and I'd also like to chat for a little while longer."

In other words: 'I know you're trying to pull the wool over my eyes, so why don't you just stick around a fess up to whatever you're trying so desperately to keep hidden'.

At that moment, I keyed into the fact that Thorn was following me as I inched towards the door, wining a little with each half-shuffle-of-a-step I took. His eyes were large and shining with sadness as he tried to stop me from leaving, his tail set firmly between his legs. A small piece of my heart broke for him, but I couldn't divert my attention towards feeling sorry; my body wouldn't let me.

"I just dropped by to say 'hi'," I said too quickly as I looked away from Thorn, my tone sharp. The fragile veneer of calm I was hiding behind cracked in several places as I did so, weakening the validity of the lie I was spinning. When Max's eyebrows arched with shock, I continued speaking to try and soften my outburst. "I really would like to stay and talk, but I can't. I'll come by again soon."

The familiar glint that accompanies realization flickered through Max's eyes as I spoke, disappearing as quickly as it appeared. Had I blinked at the wrong moment, I would have missed it. Fear—fear that Max would finally say he was through playing games with me—jolted through me, culminating like a two-tonne weight in my gut. The last thing I wanted (or needed) was for Max to lay into me, attacking me like an Inquisidor General of the Spanish Inquisition. I flinched when Max's lips ever so slightly parted and he drew in air to either prolong my agony or set me free to satiate the will of my puppeteer.

"Well, thanks for stopping in to see me," Max said with a sigh. He reached up to run a hand through his hair, looking frazzled and old. "I had a few things I really wanted to talk to you about, but—"

"—They'll have to wait for another night," I finished eagerly. It took everything I had not to run from the store then and there. I worried when a tense silence fell between Max and I that I had been too quick to cut him off. A tiny flicker of a frown darter across Max's face, but it was washed away by reluctant acceptance before being able to take root.

"I guess so," Max shrugged, his voice tired and slightly confused to match his expression. He ran his hand through his hair again, pondering what to say next. I could see that he was trying to decided between imploring me to say and bidding me goodbye but couldn't decide if it was worth asking me to stay. A few long, tense seconds passed before he spoke again.

"I _will_ see you later, Felicia."

"Count on it," I said cheerfully, forcing as natural a smile as I could muster. The gesture felt tight and awkward, making me instantly regret trying to look happy in the first place.

Max smiled back, through I could sense the unease and suspicion that marred the gesture. For a second, it looked as if Max would implore me again to stay and talk with me, but he seemed to think better of it. Instead of delaying me further, he waved over his shoulder, motioning me to move toward the door. I was officially free to leave.

It was as if a floodgate opened inside of me. My limbs coursed with energy, so much so that I could literally feel them tingling. The screaming voices in my head urged me on, the resounding call of my own name fuelling my need to run, run east towards an unknown final destination that promised relief from my torment. I wanted so badly to bolt out of the store, to let the power that I kept so tightly reigned in loose, but I managed (just barely) to keep myself in check. Instead, I breezed around Max as carefully (and naturally—i.e.: slowly) as I could manage.

My legs felt as if they were under the control of someone else as I walked at what felt like a snail's pace towards the door. I heard Max turn to watch me leave and felt his eyes land heavily on my retreating back. Somehow, I knew that he was completely aware that I was up to something, but I just couldn't make myself care. All I was concerned about was making it out of the VideoMax without any further delays. Fortunately, Jeffrey had ducked into the back of the store at some point, so I didn't have to struggle through any awkward goodbyes. Had he been there, I also wasn't sure I would have been able to make myself stop to talk to him.

I counted my steps as I crept (or so it felt) towards the only exit. Ten more step separated me from my freedom and my return to normalcy. Ten more steps and the pounding echo in my head would stop. Just ten more.

Nine…

_… __**FELICIA!**_

Eight…

_… __**FELICIA!**_

Seven…

"Felicia," Max said suddenly, his voice crashing through the war of noise going on in my head like a wrecking ball.

I froze like a statue, using every ounce of strength and will I could muster to make my body listen to my commands. I turned, rigid and slow, back to face Max, meeting his calculating stare as politely and unassumingly as I could. I must not have done a very good job of it, though, because Max's glower darkened the second our eyes met.

… Great.

"Yes?" I asked, my voice hardly rising above a whisper. I was afraid that if I spoke any louder, the strain it was causing me to even _think_ about speaking would shine through.

Max stared at me for what felt like forever, his eyes searching thoroughly for something important in my eyes. Biting down hard on my tongue so hard that I should have drawn blood, I waited impatiently for Max to speak. I wanted to tell him to spit out what he had to say so I could be on my merry way, but I managed to keep that snarky comment to myself.

"Be safe," Max said finally, his voice filled with fatherly suspicion and concern. I could tell by the budding frown on his brow that wasn't at all what he had wanted to say when he initially stopped me, but I didn't want to push him for the truth. Things would be better—and not to mention easier—for both of us that way.

"I will," I said quietly, swiftly closing the remaining space between the door and myself the second after the words departed from my lips. I moved, perhaps a little too quickly, but I no longer cared. All I wanted was to feel the cool of the metal door pull beneath my hands; hear the chime of the bell over the exit ring shrilly in my ears; brace against the humidity of the outdoor air as it crashed against my flesh… So eager was I to appease the forces raging within my head and body that I almost—_almost_—immediately took off running the second I felt the door to the VideoMax shut behind me. Luckily enough, I still had enough sense about me to feel Max's eyes lingering on my back like knife-points pressed against my skin. So instead of taking off like a shot (like I had planned), I kept myself composed, walking at a 'leisurely' pace along the sidewalk, until I was well out of the view of the VideoMax's storefront.

After that, all bets were off.

Keeping out of sight whenever I could and breezing past crowds of humans whenever I couldn't, I raced eastward through Santa Carla like a guided missile. My very still and very dead heart seemed to blaze with fire in my chest as I ran, the unnatural need that flooded my system acting like jet fuel on the blaze. Every inch of my body sang with the promise of relief as the kilometres faded away, the echoing call of my own name within my head intensifying as I darted through the streets. All I could think about was reaching wherever I needed to be so that all the voices and all the feelings that weren't mine would stop. I didn't care where it was or how long it would take me to get there—all I wanted was to get there.

So, on and on I ran—not really thinking, not really seeing. Minutes passed like seconds and, vaguely, I became aware that Santa Carla was fading away around me. Shops began to turn to homes, and homes to acreages. Fences began to stretch on for longer as I went farther out into the country, looking less 'white picket' and more farm-like. I could smell the strong, musty smell of herd animals—maybe cows or possibly sheep or horses—on the air, and invariably I felt the road turn from asphalt to gravel beneath my feet. The dust stung my nose as I breathed, but the pain that caused was really insignificant in the grander scheme of things.

The droning call of my own name was still getting worse as I let the lights of Santa Carla fall farther and father away, the siren's call becoming more and more like the hum of a million biting wasps inside my skull. Running, the unnatural desire that ruled my body whispered urgently, was the only way to make it stop—to make it _all _stop. So, I ran, and ran, and ran until I found myself standing on a pathway leading towards the entrance of a rather impressive house.

It was simple, rustic even, but quite large; the two- storey a-frame structure easily blocked out the light of the moon, hiding me in dense shadow. The front yard (even though it was technically at the _back_ of the house) that I was standing in was overgrown, but in a strangely precise way: wild flowers appeared where they pleased yet the grass seemed to grow mathematically from only a few inches to waist-high as it bled into the expansive backyard. Trees loomed in the distance, hinting at the extensive forest that undoubtedly watched over the front of the house from afar.

Looking around, mute, I absently followed the gravel path I stood on until I nearly tripped on a set of stairs. A wide deck surrounded the front two sides of the diamond-shaped building like a single-pointed crown, the white boards bathed in warm light from the inside of the house. From what I could tell, the entire front of the home was made from glass, save for where a large patchwork-stone chimney rose like a pillar into the air. Silently, I ascended the two steps onto the deck, carefully walking around the sloping line of the roof in search of any hint of the person (or persons) who made this place their home.

After taking a cursory glance through one of the kitchen windows (the appliances stood empty and spotless as if they were never used), I turned my back to the wall of glass behind me and approached the deck railing. As I stood, looking out over the meadow which sprawled before the house like a carpet, I noticed the deep, eerie silence that blanketed the property. Like at the decaying plantation house David and I had haunted not twenty-four hours ago, no night-time sounds disturbed the profoundness of the quiet that shrouded the property. I could hear the breeze that gently kissed the night air whispering through the ancient forest that bordered on the farthest reaches of the acreage, but nothing else. No bugs, no animals, no people—human or otherwise.

It was as I stood, barely hidden in the shadow of the over-hanging roof as I observed the property, I realized that my head was finally _mine_ again. No strange voices coaxed or heckled me, leaving only the phantom voice of my own thoughts to bounce off the (some would say 'thick') walls of my skull. And even though my gut was telling me it wouldn't return, I waited anxiously for my auditory albatross to crash through the calm that filled my head. But as minutes ticked by in complete silence, I eventually allowed the tension in my arms and legs to ease. Every muscle in my body had tensed in preparation to fight against the mental intrusion that had plagued me for what seemed like weeks, but I never had to. My head remained clear, my body and needs under my own control. In an instant, the strain that had tortured me for the past two nights had lifted, leaving me to truly do as I pleased.

I was, for lack of a better word, _free_.

With artful timing, the sliding glass door to the house slid open, catching me totally off guard. Spinning around at sound of metal gliding on metal, I took a frantic step backward when my eyes fell upon the man who stood there to greet me. He was tall—maybe a few inches taller than David was—and pale, his skin as white and creamy as mine. His lean frame belied the strength that undoubtedly coursed through his toned muscles, their outlines just barely showing through the plain white dress shirt he wore. A shock of wheat-gold hair—cropped short like Mickey O'Neil's—crowned his head; I could see delicate streaks of platinum running through the shaggy cut, giving life to an otherwise common shade of blonde. He was handsome to say the least, but what struck me the most about him was his face.

It was as if someone had taken features of David's face and superimposed them amongst ones I didn't know.

The very same narrow, mischievous eyes that I so often gazed (and glared) into while looking at David were staring at me—laughing at me—from behind a few stray wisps of hair that hovered over the stranger's strong forehead. Though instead of being met by piercing, icy-blue spheres that spoke coded volumes about everything and nothing at all, I was staring at deep, warm hazel gems that glittered in the backlight from inside the house. Flecks of grey, chestnut and ochre streaked the myriad of greens that swam in his irises, the unfamiliar colours sending strange shocks of fear running up and down my spine. Truly disturbed, I looked around the stranger's face for something to distract myself with but only found more disconcerting familiarities. Echoes of David's cheekbones and chin defined the stranger's image, but the thin, sharp nose that divided the recognizable yet foreign planes was refreshingly dissimilar. His lips were also new to me, the full bows twisted into an easy smile that accentuated the strangers thin, clean-shaven cheeks.

I had to fight to keep my mouth from falling open as I openly stared at the man, struggling to break my mind out of an infinite loops of unanswerable questions.

"Ah, Felicia," David's not-quite-identical-mirror-image sang, his smooth voice exactly like the one that had been hounding me relentlessly for days, "you're finally here. I've been expecting you."


End file.
